#tales of erai'hym

[eweniversal]

Erai'hym Character and Race Guide

Kotaphira Havanne - Derhanish (half Elfirrin)

Named after the founder of the city Maerise in the country Derhan. From the hold called Whitepeak, she is on a quest to establish herself as an important member of the Derhanish knights based on her own merit and not inheritance. Nicknames include Phira, Grapes, and Twobits.

Ayler Havanne - Derhanish (human)

Half brother to Kotaphira Havanne, intent on proving himself through his own means, no matter the cost. Also from Whitepeak, served in the same squadron as his half sister Kotaphira. Nicknames include Lyre, Clouds, and Threebits.

Laranen Relt - Jenyae

A wandering merchant and showman, she is native to the volcanic jungles of Firastrous. Having met many and important people, she has picked up many valuable pieces of artifacts- and information.

Sir Bicroy - Derhanish (human)

From Whitepeak, he leads the squadron called Ninebits. From this squadron come Kotaphira and Ayler Havanne.

Kotaphira Arculum - Derhanish (half Elfirrin)

Founder of the free city Maerise in the wartorn country of Derhan, Kotaphira is perhaps the oldest member of their society. Still sitting on the council, she advises most of the important ongoings and oversees the military higher-ups. Through her influence, she has conducted many peace treaties, talks, and negotiations- even if half of them were for her own gain.

Mind riddled with constant anxiety and chatter from an unknown relic's influence, she struggles with making sound decisions and formulated opinions based on self interest instead of as seeing the larger picture. Despite having many children over the years (Taskell, Samund, Perine, Baloren, Aress, Jaesin, and Maeldrid) she is not known for her close knit familial ties. Titles include Lady Doe, Madame Kota, and Dragon Queller.

Rinlear Moban - Derhanish (human undead)

Once called brother to Kotaphira Arculum, the two were raised together in the small logging town Daelen, west of Derhan in the mountains. Dreaming of a peaceful and academic future, he established a university called “The College” nearby to encourage magical teachings to all, as a safe haven for whoever was fleeing any sort of persecution.

In the Battle of Laves, he almost lost his life protecting his best friends. A wicked and strange necromancer from the country Arc'hilde captured him and did extensive experimentation on him, attempting to create a sort of vial to hold magical essences of others. It backfired, and Rinlear became a consumer of magical essences instead- which caused his body to rot but still be held together.

Echertai Omos - Derhanish (human)

Lover to Kotaphira Arculum in her younger years and best friend to Rinlear, the three had worked together to bring their dream of a free and welcoming country to fruition. He established trade routes, invitations from other countries at the threat of war, and set up holds around the country of Derhan to ensure safety to the civilians. During the Battle of Laves, he sacrificed himself to save Kotaphira, having followed her own self serving orders at the risk of destroying the newly founded city of Maerise at the hands of Arc’hilde.

Taskell Omos - Derhanish (quarter Elfirrin)

Son to Kotaphira Arculum and Echertai Omos, Taskell is 200 years old and has long since grown past a serious and ‘old’ demeanor, despite his reputation for having once been a sour a cynical man. Having taken up parkour in the past 50 years, he is well adept at scaling, climbing, and leaping. Having served in the military and tried his hand at sitting on the council, he’s given that up to be more of a snoop; sneaking around and learning everyone’s secrets to spread rumors for fun. An all around easy going guy and jokester/prankster, he enjoys his time learning and messing with others. Titles and nicknames include: Sir Brightsword, Kellman, and Quidnunc.

Samund Miras - Derhanish (quarter Elfirrin)

Younger half-brother (Kotaphira Arculum being his mother as well) to Taskell by about 70 years, Samund is studious and somber. Having recently been assigned to the city council for public finance, he takes his job seriously, though gives the other council members a hard time in reminding them the costs of things.

He and Taskell aren’t on the best of terms, but they tolerate each other at dinner functions and other public meetings. After the death of their younger half-sister Perine, the two brothers drifted apart and never fully healed the chasm between them. Titles and nicknames include: Sir Hardoc, Miramira (by Taskell only), and Councilman Miras.

Kemryn Sebuho - Derhanish (half Elfirrin)

One of the youngest and brightest of her magical class, Kemryn is in her 8th year at the College. Studying to hone her magical ability of creating wards and channeling magics like water, she has become quite adept in her studying and has caught the eye of Kotaphira Arculum to work directly under her. Kemryn and her sisters (Ia’wori and Sadinah) can use their magical abilities together to create vessels to trap newly released souls (golems basically, but refined). Level headed and quirky, she is still a bit naive but very much open about her ideas on others. Titles and nicknames include: Lady Wardsmith, Lady Pink, and Bunny.

Steirtorim Brighteyes - Derhanish (Trocblood)

A mix of Derhanish human and trocoblin, Steirtorim has a muddled skin color the blend of green and brown. Short tusks protrude from his lower teeth out of his mouth, and his nose is shorter than the average human’s. Because of the commonality of trocbloods now in Maerise (within the past seventy years or so) he’s just now adjusting fully to feeling on more equal grounds to others such as furmen and the Derhanish natives. After the Treaty of Ulpustur, he was assigned to the royal Maerisian Knights, and over the years became captain, serving directly under Kotaphira Arculum. His loyalty and honesty knows no bounds, but this serves as a weakness. Titles and nicknames include: Captain, Sir Changorim, and Steir.

Verusk Alondale - Arc’hildean (Night Elfirrin)

Advisor and brother-in-law to King Selreth of Maerise, Verusk has been working over the past several decades to keep his personal sanity in tact. Lady Kotaphira has irritated him to no end, but he still respects her due to her abilities and serving on the council under him. Verusk is not clueless when it comes to most other’s ongoings and tries to be steps ahead at all times, but he’s not perfect in his attempts. His nephew (Prince Jonvis) is the only one who has caught on to his secret intentions, and seems to be the only one able to keep up or even be steps ahead of him, despite the boy’s much younger age. Titles include: Advisor Alondale, Sir Husk, and Verdant Shadow.

King Selreth - Derhanish (human)

After the Treaty of Ulpustur, Selreth returned with Verusk, Verusk’s sister (Aneela), Steirtorim, and Kotaphira Arculum where he was crowned king by the previous one. Since then, he married (Aneela), and has run the city- and country- to the best of his abilities. A family oriented man, he places his family above the city, much to Kotaphira Arculum’s frustration (and advantage). He is hard headed and logic driven, but he still listens to Kotaphira’s advice given her age, wisdom, and experience with the city. Titles include: Sire, Sir Trell, and Stonenose (by Steirtorim only).

Princess Mylla - Derhanish (half Elfirrin)

Younger sister to (prince Jonvis), she is stubborn and loud. Allowed to do as she pleases, she never had proper restrictions in her upbringing and was quite spoiled. Still, she was loved by all for her beauty and gracefulness, revered almost as a mascot by the Maerisian populace. Her magical ability allows her to absorb any magic aimed at her and return it to the spellcaster, making her ideal to fight in a mage’s battle. However, she has no desire to join the military or College, much more comfortable at parties and balls so she may receive more praise by others. Titles and nicknames include: Princess, Madame Frou, and Sponge (by Jonvis only).

The Boar's Head - (unknown)

Leader of the Thieves’ Guild, The Boar’s Head keeps hidden from everyone, including the guild’s own members. No one knows the age or race of The Boar’s Head, except that they might be a woman. Rumors state ‘she’ is older than the city itself, having lived in caves with ‘her’ pet boar that used to exist underground, and has infiltrated the city after it’s construction to steal from those who had killed her boar. Kotaphira Arculum is the only person from aboveground The Boar’s Head chooses to interact with.

---

Races:

Human: Derhanish human 'natives’ are dark skinned- they migrated many generations ago from the low deserts of Lutria. Light skinned humans are typically from the country of Arc'hilde. The native humans to the country Firastrous resemble real world Native Americans and South Americans.

Edirthean: From the magical forest called Edirthe (ee dirth ee) come 12 magical tribes of Edite (ee die tee), their powers granted by the love elemental, Loffine. Protectors of the magical well in the center, they keep a precious balance within the forest, but are constantly at war with the trocoblins. They resemble real world mix of Pacific Islanders and Pakistani.

Elfirrin: From Lutria, descendents of the light elemental Leada, natural magic wielders. Elfirrin blood cannot mix with Vessifer or Trocbloods. Lifespan is typically 800 years. Tall, limber, and sharp features set them apart from typical humanoids. Pointed ears make them easily recognizable as Elfirrin.

Sun Elfirrin: Born during the day, they have skin tones that range from yellow/tan to black, hair colors that range from pastels to white, and they cannot venture out at night for long periods of time.

Night Elfirrin: Born at night, they have dark colored hair, and pale skin. They are not restricted to the day time, making them ideal assassins.

Moon Elfirrin: Previously Sun Elves that were transformed by exposure to the light of the moon called Herac'ine (hee rak ine).

Half Elifirrin: Still magically inclined, but their hair color is typically vibrant in hue. Lifespan is halved.

Quarter Elfirrin: Softer hue color for hair, and only slight magical abilities. Lifespan is about 250 years.

Furmen/scalemen/feathermen: From the northern reaches of Ai'ltiem down to the hot sandy deserts of Lutria, to northwest of Derhan, they are tribal and territorial. Bipedal and larger than the average human, each tribe imbues physical traits of animals. They are unable to breed with any other humanoid or race but their own. They are not magically inclined.

Trocoblin: Descendents of the dark elemental Derdia's nightbeasts, these creatures resemble a mix of trolls, orcs, and goblins. Not altogether intelligent, they do have a verbal form of communication. Any magics a troc or Trocblood might have is crude and raw, but not strong.

Trocblood/ trocmutt: A trocblood is any person of trocoblin ancestry. “Trocmutt” is a racial slur. Their skin is tougher than a typical humanoid’s, their intelligence much higher than a trocoblin’s, and they seem to be much more susceptible to magics than any other race or race blend.

Jenyae: Though descendents of the fire elemental Firastra, they are also bound by earthen magics. Limbs are typically transparent, while skin color ranges from yellow to red to green. They are magically inclined and have wish granting abilities (based on the laws of equality), though are known to be clever tricksters who put on colorful, entertaining shows.

Vessifer: From the frozen reaches of Ironmarsh, they are the descendents of the dark elemental Derdia, they were created as a natural enemy to Elfirrin. The Vessifer curse does not dilute if one has a non-Vessifer parent. You either have the curse or you don't (if you don't, then neither parent was Vessifer). The curse activates when under extreme mental or emotional strain, and the Vessifer are very emotional creatures. Normal form is similar to humans, but severely attractive, while their cursed form is of hellish nightmares and individualized based on the person.

Heraghine: From the Vessifer and the love elemental Loffine come a line of special healers that balance the Vessifer's emotional states out. Called the Heraghine (hee ra ine), one is born to a generation. She is always wise, insightful, and has the ability to enter in to the minds of her patients to help quell their suffering. Her method of healing is by encouraging the mind to work on it's own instead of as an invasive force. Some Heraghine are granted a special ability of foresight, though this can greatly affect her mental stability depending on how strong the foresight is.

Aethestian: Descendents of the wind elemental Aerie, these people carry an avian gene, though most lay dormant. In those that are active, they have what resemble wings but they are usually small and pathetic, though greatly revered and decorated. Aethestians resemble real world Asians.

Phaerie: Short creatures that resemble a mix of human and moth or human and plant. Native to the jungles around Arc'hilde, they are simple minded but have a high magical inclination.

Piksie: Tiny beings that emit a magical glow, they are native to the magical forest called Edirthe. Historically they are known for being the cause of wars and the ends of them.

Ulpustur Dragon: From the Ulpustur mountain range in the far Western region of Ironmarsh, the Ulpustur dragons are very large, old, and intelligent beings who study magic, philosophy, and the arts. Despite their cultured ways, they still rely heavily on instincts and the laws of nature. Through extensive magical studies, elder dragons are able to take on crude humanoid forms, but none are perfect.

Cave Dragon: Much smaller than the Ulpustur Dragon, Cave Dragons are seen typically as annoying pests, dwelling within the cave homes of the Ulpustur Dragons.

Akooakae: From the ocean that surround the Eastern parts of the country Arc'hilde come the Akooakae, half humanoid, half sea creatures who emerged in recent times. Worshipping the water elemental Akooa, these beings rely on each other and a female leader to act on their behalf. Matriarchal and vindictive, they are sly creatures but ever curious. 

[eweniversal]

Secrets of A Councilwoman

(note: this takes place well after the first tidbit I’ve posted) -PART 1-

Kotaphira’s scowl on the chained being she once called a brother changed to that of thought as she observed from her hiding place. At the entrance of the castle’s catacombs, hidden well underneath the surface in a darkened cave was a large pool of water with an outlet that led to the river that divided the city of Maerise in half. The captain’s right. Leaving him here is dangerous at best, even within the confines of the catacombs. But he’s here for a reason. Driving the point home is what’s going to encourage the others to follow through with this plan. It must… else-

Else, you’ll die alone and broken. Two hundred and fifty years, it’s about time for you to croak… Self-preservation is the ONLY way to continue this legacy of yours..

There, just a few meters away and standing hunched in the mud was a mangled leftover of a once proud man. A man who once loved her, revered her, went to the ends of the world for her- at her own bequest. Blue eyes glowed from behind the muzzle that covered his entire face, the enchantment on the twisted, ugly thing glowing and singeing at the decaying, dark skin of the once proud native Derhanian. “Where… where is she… I can smell you!” What used to be of her brother’s voice was mixed with age, destruction, evil- a raspiness and widening as his jaw struggled to move properly in the mask he wore.

Rotten.

The corners of her mouth turned down as she watched his ‘handlers’ keep him at bay with sticks that held chains at the end, keeping his arms tight at his back. They were soldiers, her soldiers, of the Royal Maerisian Knights. A higher honor than Dragon Rider, or even the King’s Guard. These were the strongest of the bunch, and hand picked by her for this task. Among them were two large bipedal fur-men, a bear and a wolf, along with two native Derhanian dark skinned men who had more bulk than brain. The last was a troc mutt whose skin was an indecisive color mix between green and brown and long matted hair that was kept in high dreads. They were an intimidating bunch, in their blue and silver armor, the official colors of the Maerisian city’s soldiers. Around this circle were four mages, led by the youngest of them, a girl by the name Kemryn. She was half Derhanish with vibrant naturally pink curly hair that, along with her pointed ears, proved her magical half-Elfirrin blood. Glowing magical symbols sat around her wrists like bracelets, pushing against her skin and twisting at intervals. All of the mages kept just close enough, ensuring a binding spell was kept in place on the prisoner.

"Hrmh," Ah, dear Steirtorim. A towering troc mutt from the north; perhaps, if she were two hundred years younger and had a taste for murky green colored men... "Is a silencing magic available now?" His head turned to his commanding officer, an elder darker skinned Derhanian gentleman who always threatened retirement the moment he ever saw someone’s skin outside of armor. “The crowd outside all have their attention turned elsewhere. There are many guards available to be here, but-” But it may not be enough to hold the monster at bay. He looked back to the prisoner who shook in his shackles, causing Steirtorim to grab for his weapon, partly unsheathing it. “Should we need more protection!” More people to swear to secrecy. She should have brought her younger purple-haired doppelganger to this reunion. Perhaps bring her sons Samund and Taskell, too.

Focus.

"Lady Kotaphira is here, he has been asking for her- perhaps she can calm him."

He knew she was there from the start, only mentioning her when convenient. Clever troc. “Calm him?” Kotaphira’s voiced called out crisp, piercing the eardrums of those in the vicinity and echoing in the cavern. “My strongest men, and you can’t settle this monstrosity on your own?” She emerged from her hiding place by the hidden entry of the castle’s catacombs. “Needing an old woman to do your job for you.” Her chin was held high, despite being dwarfed by the guards surrounding her. Her gaze and attention was held on the decades old beast before her, weathered emblem of an ancient sigil of their past set on his shoulder like a proud pauldron.

Not pride. Curse.

Kotaphira swallowed as she kept close enough to Captain Steirtorim. The thing before her was no longer her brother, but the remains of a ghost.

“Your challenging of Derdia’s Call wearies by the day. You should be put out of your misery, for everyone’s safety.” A smile crept up on her lips, age making the lines by her eyes crinkle. “It would be my honor to do so. Brother. But not yet. I need you for something first.” Her grin faded and the look on her face turned into that of a disapproving scowl. “Heel.” Her demand was gentle, magic imbued with her tone like a master weaver carefully pulling golden strands within their craft. Her gaze was solely on the chained monster, intent only to him. “Kneel, demon.” Almost a whisper, but only meant for him.

Rinlear was always defiant to what he didn’t want to do. Now was not the time for that trait to appear.

Turning to writhe, he pulled himself against his restraints, her magic seeming to cause him insurmountable amounts of pain. Growling out, he shook his chains and sobbed loudly before it turned in to a malicious laughter. Whispers and groans floated to her sensitive Elfirrin ears as he spoke, and her back stiffened at his words.

“Be quiet, fossil.” Rinlear hissed quietly. Head leaning forward to hang, his shoulders swayed back and forth as though he were testing the restraint at his wrists. At his comment, however, one of the fur-men gave a shout and they struggled to pushed the old thing down, but he resisted and turned sharply, aiming for the troc mutt who held him. The soldier flinched to the side, exposing one of the mages. The mage’s eyes went wide as he held up his hands in defense, breaking concentration on the spell. Kemryn gave a shout over the yelling of the other soldiers, but Rinlear rushed forward and with a loud growl, head butted the defenseless mage to the ground. The troc soldier twisted his arm to righten the monster and the rest of the guard put the wretched thing back in place in front of Kota, pushing him to his knees at her feet. She didn’t notice the loosening of one of the buckles of his mask at the side where he’d impacted the mage’s head.

The mages worked hard without their fourth to continue their magic, but without the silencer, Rinlear was able to form more coherent sentences, struggling against the widening of his loosened jaw, forcing it to move in a strange way against the mask.

“Kneel? To a pompous, voracious sow? Heheheheheh.” His chuckle turned to a chortle, distorted by the metallic jaw-covering and reverberating around the cavern. “Why would I kneel to a craven little weakling?” He looked around to the guards holding his chains, to the old armored commander, the towering troc-man, and back to Kotaphira. “You still can’t do anything yourself. You need your platoon of big, strong men to do everything for you…” Another chuckle echoed out. “Even keep your bed warm, last I heard.”

Her brows raised. A feeble attempt at trying to defy the situation. How… predictable. He paused again, head and shoulder flinching as he whispered once more, long strings of unintelligible words, the two glowing blue dots disappearing within his muzzle as he shut his eyes.

“You’ll not disrespect Lady Kotaphira, you abominable wretch! Show respect.” Steirtorim growled through his short, exposed tusks, threatening his sword at the prisoner.

Kota’s hand raised to silence Steirtorim. “He has no notion of respect anymore.” Kota frowned, disgust bubbling in her chest.

“But to go after anything that's... humanoid!” He gave a quick nod to Steirtorim. “You tell me if that’s ‘respectable’! Have some shame, ‘dear sister.’” His disposition changed to a more stern, serious one. “What am I saying, you’re no sister of mine. Not someone who’d ‘spare’ their brother out of convenience or abandon their lover.” His glowing eyes opened to concentrate up on Kotaphira’s face, blue glow reflecting from the enchanted metal and back to what little skin was left on his face. She could just make out the tendons, blackened and burnt, moving as he spoke, the longer she looked. He no longer had a nose. “I’d wager you would even sacrifice the spawn of your womb if it granted you more power.” Disgust dripped from his words. It seemed whatever feeling of empathy he’d ever had for her was gone. “Pheh, and I’m the demon. Whatever you need, send your harem. I want no part in it.”

The mask slowly moved against his jaw, loosening with every sentence.

“You do not have a choice. Trust me, I would not have bothered to send for you if it meant I could do this any other way. Your inconvenience is just as much as mine is. Asking you to come here would have brought more harm than good.” She actually dared to step forward and kneel in front of him, still an arm’s length away, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Devourer of Man. If you do as I say, you’ll get all the flesh you could ever want to consume. Defy me, and you will never taste another soul again. Do we have a deal?” She didn’t wait for an answer before standing up. This was not a bargain he had a decision in. “Get him detained in the catacombs with a proper muffler.” His voice echoing to entice others was a threat she couldn’t afford right now. “Don’t let anyone near enough to him. He’ll starve before I let anyone risk their lives out of curiosity.”

His presence was foul, the old sigil on his shoulder eerie and emanating evil. So why… why was there a feeling of excitement? She was closer to her goal, but something else was pulling.

Brother…

Her head shook slightly. Family or not, there was nothing left of the Rinlear she knew.

But isn’t there?

Kotaphira looked up to Steirtorim. “I have something to attend to. Is this under control?” Her brows raised, nodding in the direction of the downed spell caster. They couldn’t afford any more injuries or deaths with this operation. People did not need to be asking questions; the cover with the disappearance of Princess Mylla was one thing, but people get bored easily.

“Yes, I believe so. So long as we don’t lose anyone else due to carelessness.” He shot a glare to the other troc. “Holding him within city walls, though?”

“It needs to be here.” She responded curtly.

“Hahahaha,” Rinlear made his amusement in her decisions clear, “Yes, slime-spawn. Is this under control? Your fallen woman of a queen needs a clear mind to herd more human cattle to their slaughter.” He looked at the guards holding his chains, as his words weren’t just for her anymore. “I accept your offer, and see your reasoning, Madame Councilor. Maerise doesn’t need any more of her people risking their lives to a monster such as I.” Rinlear stared straight at her, through her, “Not when a monster such as you can sell them to me for my services.” He sounded as though he were challenging her actions, and she wondered, for just a moment, if he would stand to resist her intentions. “But I’m not as stingy as you might think. Rather than ‘all the flesh I could ever hope to consume.’ I want...” He looked around again, glowing blue eyes shifting around. “You to decide upon one soul to sacrifice to me, one for every head we have in audience here. You’ll announce them by name at the city square.” He looked once more at Steirtorim, as though he could see his very soul. “And one of my choosing.” There was a slick sound, as though he were licking at lips that no longer existed. “These twisted lengths you're willing to go through will not be kept hidden."

She let him have his words while her hands gripped tightly at her sides. The filthy relic that bowed before her in defiance was no brother of hers. Muscles twitching in her face, she finally found the courage to speak within her rage. No one would be losing their lives if she could help it, and certainly not to this disgusting cannibal! “You’re in no position to make demands, wretched beast.” How could he possibly think that I would do such a thing!? He’s lost whatever logic he once held, for certain. “Open your filthy mouth again to speak, and I’ll use my magics to shut you up for good. We just watched you squeal like a hung pig meant for the butcher the moment I spoke before, and that was barely a whisper. I’ve had time to hone my craft, and you’re weak. If we have to force you down and sew your mouth opening shut, so be it!”

“Eheheheh..” With that, the enchanted muzzle slipped and hung halfway from his face, exposing the decayed and rotten flesh that once covered his handsome face. Blackened nubs replaced the teeth he once had, the right side of his jaw hanging looser than the left, unhinged from the skull. The muscles still pulled into a sort of wicked grin, drool the color of oil dripping from the opening.

Kota’s eyes widened and she looked quickly to Kemryn, who was still concentrating hard on her task. “Child! The restraint!”

But it was too late. Rinlear’s head was leaned back, and through the exposed side of his face he opened his jaw wide and let out a low, rumbling groan that echoed throughout the cavern. The air around them turned to static as the mage’s magics, and Kota’s too, were pulled from their hands, raising their arms against their will. Kota was incapacitated, defenseless, against this unnatural attack. Like all of the air was pulled from her lungs, and the water from her body. Electricity buzzed all her nerves at once and pulled whatever was left up and out through her fingertips. Glowing energies from each of them raised in the air and swirled over Rinlear’s head, and for a split second began to converge and flow in to his open mouth.

“She said- HEEL!” Steirtorim’s sword hilt made contact with Rinlear’s exposed face- what was left of it- and with a loud crunch the prisoner crumpled to the ground. The magical energies slowly separated and dispersed back to their respective owners. Collapsing to the mud, the magic wielders gasped for air and struggled to regain their posture as black dots appeared in their vision.

“Lady Kotaphira!” Steirtorim knelt at her side, hand hovering over her shoulder. He knew she didn’t like to be touched.

“Kemryn..” Kota barely let out, “All of you. No more leather on prisoners. Metal only. No clasps. LOCKS, and securer enchantments.” She looked up, glaring at them all, “And for the love of Derdia, NO ONE hesitate!”

Steirtorim nodded, helping her to her feet only when she reached for him. “So long as he.. It.. stays alive.”

“That goes without saying.” She hissed. Another glance at Rinlear, and Kotaphira turned to go inside the castle.

“My lady, what about what just happened! You can’t ignore that!” Steirtorim moved to help the mages up while the soldiers re-latched the mask and secured Rinlear’s bindings.

“There’s no time! The sooner this is dealt with, the sooner this thing can be disposed of!” The old oak doors strained as they shut behind her. It really was problematic, and under any other circumstances she would have been eager to attempt to dissect the situation and investigate. But time was running out. Rinlear wasn’t the sacrifice, but the bait.

[eweniversal]

Phira of the Dragon Knights

-----

"Ayler.. Ayler don't-"

"I have to, Kotaphira! Who else is going to avenge father? You? You're too soft! An insult to the Derhanian knights and the Troop of Seven! A gaelshar!" He forcefully pulled his shoulder away from her grasp.

A gaelshar was the lame pack animal who was useless to anyone. The insult stung, and it was all she could do to keep from punching him, "Gaelshar or not, I at least know when not to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, and going after Father's killer isn't going to settle your uneasiness!"

But he was already riding off, his war horse galloping away.

"Aaahhg!" Forcefully, she punched the tree next to her, causing the bones in her arm to vibrate through her gauntlet, "Owww!" Holding her arm to her chest, she sauntered back to her tent and kicked at the bedding. It was late, but tiredness, pain, and anxiety kept her heart beating and her thoughts running rampant. After a fire was lit, she settled down and pulled off her armor before tending to her hand. The bones still hurt and the armor left red marks between her fingers despite having cloth wrappings on, "When did he get like this?" She wondered out loud, "He used to be so timid. Afraid, even. Before he turned sour and wretched. He was always the clever one.. now he's clouded!" A heavy sigh, and she seethed through her teeth as she put a small amount of ointment on her knuckles, "What happened to you.. Why are you so angry?"

"I may answer this, perhaps?"

A rough, deep, accented voice caught her by surprise, and Phira quickly pulled a dagger from her boot, pointing it to the figure at the opening of the tent. How did they sneak up on her? Half-elfirrin were known to have better hearing than most humans, "What are you doing in this camp! No one is supposed to be here except for approved members of the royal Derhanian knight guard!" She was already standing, moving toward the hooded figure, watching with concentrated green eyes.

"Lady knight, please. Allow me food just, and I will tell you your wish. Then I will be gone."

Did she care that much? "Fine, but you're coming with me to the commander."

"You would be wise, your commander does not approve of gypsies."

"Gyp-!" Suddenly, a movement from their fingers and the gypsie's magic prevented her from speaking louder than a whisper.

"They cannae know I am here, yeah?"

She tried to attack the person, but they moved their hands around and suddenly, she was sitting on the floor facing them, dagger scattered across the floor.

"If it is not minding you, I wish to sit."

It seemed she didn't have a choice at that point.

The gypsy entered and let the tent flap close behind them before sitting across from her, removing their hood in the process. Underneath was a girl, to Kotaphira's surprise. She had skin the color of a blued swamp slime, eyes that glowed a single color of shiny melting lava stones, and muddy yellow hair that hung loosely in messy braids down the nape of her dotted neck. Her head tilted before she pulled something from her mouth, which drastically changed the pitch of her voice to sleek and soothing, "My name is Laranen. From the loud knight, he called you Kotaphira. Like the old one, in Maerise"

Phira couldn't move. She'd never seen a Jenyae up close before. Eyes darting to the young girl's hands, she noted they were indeed transparent. She wondered how much of the Jenyae's body was see-through, and if it were true she needed to carry with her an item of earth that prevented her from withering away. Irritated, she glared at the gypsy and shook her head of those questions, "Yeah, I was named after her, what do you want!" Phira let out a coarse and harsh whisper.

"I told you, food just." Laranen reached into the knapsack where Phira kept her jerky and bread, devouring a good portion of it while making noises that made the girl knight's nose wrinkle, “Bitter is the old lady. But she has much better akele.. food. But, my promise is to tell you the wish, yeah? So I will." She spoke as she chewed the food. After she finally gulped, she then reached for the flask of wine and drank half of it before letting out a satisfied burp and settling back down in her spot.

Kotaphira's nostrils flared. How dare this Jenyae gypsy waltz into her tent, insult her, and steal her food! If she had the energy, she would have tackled her and drug her by the hair to the commander!

"The fire, Kotaphira. Look in it." Laranen gracefully moved her dirty green fingers, lulling Kotaphira's gaze toward the flames, "Watch it. Desiring of your attention, it is. It moves your thoughts. Says your words. Tell it your wish."

Kotaphira was compelled, against her will, "What made Ayler change from who he was as a child?"

There was silence before the whispers. As Kota watched the dancing of the red and yellow flames lapping at the air, the whispering of the gypsy girl grew louder in her sensitive pointed ears, "Growing, learning, age, sexuality... you..."

"What...?" Phira's mind flickered to four years prior, when their group was on a scouting tour on the Derhanian and A'iltiem borders. Details began surfacing as though she were experiencing the entire tour all over again, but what stood out the most was the night when Ayler entered her tent in the evening after they were all in for the night.

-

"Kotaphira? Are you up?" He whispered.

"What do you want?" She responded with a sigh, slurred words indicating her drunken state, "We're supposed to be asleep." Turning over in her bedroll, she kept her back to the opening of the tent.

"I can't sleep. I've been thinking. A- a lot."

Another sigh, "That's new for you. You're usually too rowdy to do something like 'think'." Phira had to keep him away. She was still upset at her father for not telling her she had a little brother- and that her little brother had been in her squadron for years. Her spite kept her from attempting any sort of relationship with him, much less being friendly in any sense.

He was quiet.

"Aaah. Fine!" She let out a harsh sigh and sat up, watching him with the dim moonslight at his back, "What were you- hic- thinking about?"

Ayler's back stiffened before he entered and sat next to her on her bedroll, a little closer than she was expecting, "Yesterday."

"With... the Harkanite cultists?"

"Yeah. We almost died."

"No we didn't. We all worked together, like we were taught, to bring them down. We all did great, the Commander said so himself."

Ayler was quiet again, "No. YOU almost died."

"What?" Phira patted herself down, confused, "I don't remember that."

"That's because- because you were almost stabbed from behind. You didn't see him. His blade was so close." He reached for her chest piece and turned it around, showing the indent of a mark near the opening for the arm, "Here. Their weapon's poison, would have done you in by now." His hands started to tremble ever so slightly.

"But it didn't." Her chest ached. Ayler didn't have a clue about their being siblings. She softened considerably as she realized her spite was pointed toward the wrong person, "You saved me. Thank you."

"K-Kota-phira?" He stammered, setting her chest piece back in its place.

"Yeah?" Her head tilted at him as she stifled a yawn.

He looked at her, and she squinted at him due to a sliver in the tent flap being open enough for a beam of moonslight to shine in her eyes. She could just make out the silhouette of his blond curly hair and the rounded bump of his human ear, "I- I don't want to risk losing you again."

"What are you getting at?" She hiccuped, feeling the wine start to turn in her stomach.

"Kotaphira-" He took a shaky breath before cupping her face and planting a stiff kiss on the side of her mouth.

"Mmf-!" She struggled before pushing him away forcefully, her stomach's contents ejecting unto him, despite her attempts at moving to the side. A few good wretches and she struggled to breathe again. "Leave."

"What-"

"Leave, Ayler!" She aimed a drunk kick at him, but he dodged it well enough, "The horses would desire your company more! Leave!"

He hesitated, but did as she demanded, leaving her to clean up the mess she'd made.

-

Sparking back to the present, Phira blinked as she tried to focus back on the gypsy in front of her, "Why did you show me that?"

"You asked, no? Was that not being your wish? He is upset you have rejected him. He has become what he hates."

"Oh? And what is that, exactly?" Skepticism dripped from her words.

"Your father."

The blood drained from Phira's face as her eyes widened, dread filling her chest. It was true. If she'd told Ayler, a long time ago, who they were in relation to each other, it would have saved him the heartache and the despise he held for her now. Instead of bitterness, perhaps he'd listen to her. Perhaps, he wouldn't be like their father; the harsh and cold-hearted man they'd both come to dislike.

But he was still their father, and with him, held an honor of the Troop of Seven. With him carried the seal of the original Seven, those who wrangled the first dragons from the sky to be ridden.

"His badge. The necklace that swears him as being in the Seven.. it's still with Father!" Phira motioned to stand only to become severely light headed and fall back on her rear, "Let me go! I need to catch Ayler!"

"Ayler is leaving for the killer. Not the corpse." Laranen moved her fingers, and Phira was free from the gypsy’s spell, not hesitating to ready her armor, "You know where to find this corpse of your father's?"

She paused her buckling, "He's not been put in the crypt yet. He'd be at the temple of Etrafil near Maerise."

"Hmm? Are you sure?"

Well, now she wasn't. She eyed the Jenyae, unsure of what she meant, "Why wouldn't he be there?"

Laranen reached into her cloak and pulled a crystal ornament from the folds, "Magic allows me three: to calm who moves, to show the wish, and to find the lost." The crystal glittered in the firelight, "You are part of the elvinate, yeah? You have magics as well, yeah? Use it."

"What- I don't have magic, I never went through the Trials!"

The gypsy gave her an irritated look in response, "To think you need a ‘trial’ to learn the birthright is.. blindness."

"I don't know magic..."

A roll of the glowing orange eyes and Laranen grabbed Phira's hands with her cool transparent ones, wrapping them around the crystal, "Your eyes. Close them. Feel the magic in the crystal. Flowing through, yeah? Let it in your hands."

"Eh-"

“Havanne!” The Commander’s voice carried through the camp.

“Oh boy.” Kotaphira pushed the crystal back to Laranen, “If you really don’t want him to find you, leave. I’ve seen him tear your people apart with his bare hands. I won’t tell him you were here.”

The gypsy seemed displeased, but satisfied that Phira wouldn’t turn her in; that she appeared to trust her, “Meet me at the edge of the woods. Awaiting is the corpse of your father.” With that, she left.

Though, Phira had no intention of following her. Rule number one, never trust a gypsy. Much less a Jenyae. Their wish granting abilities were well known throughout the kingdoms, but heavily rumored to have severe consequences. She hoped the girl hadn’t stolen anything else.

“Havanne, I need to speak with you, now.” The Commander stood outside her tent.

She went back to getting ready to go. “Come in.”

He entered and glanced around, old eyes widening at her appearance, “Where do you think you’re going!”

“I- intend to see my father. I’ll be back before nightfall tomorrow, sir.”

“Without seeing me first?” His graveled voice laced irritation.

“I intended to see you first. You know I wouldn’t leave the camp without your knowing. I’m not Ayler.”

He huffed, “That boy is what I came to talk to you about.”

“He’s gone. Went to ‘avenge our father’s death’. The honorable thing to do for the first born son.”

“I actually... came to tell you, you should do it.”

“What?” Phira paused to look at him. Never had she ever expected the Commander to say something like that. She’d known him since she was a child, and never had he trusted her or expected her to do something on level with the other men of her peers. Certainly not following a tradition meant for men in her peer group. The city of Whitepeak held traditions stricter than Maerise. “Sir…”

“In my thirteen years commanding this squadron, you have never undermined me, never gone against my word, and was always loyal. You’ve striven to please me.”

He wasn’t wrong. She felt he was more of a father to her than her actual father was, despite his keeping her slightly behind the rest.

“You deserve this honor.”

“No, sir.” She stopped in front of him, latched up in her armor, “Ayler deserves this honor. I am no longer a member of the Havanne family, my father made sure of that before he was killed.” Phira pulled a letter from her breast, holding it to him, “I’ve been rejected by his family, dishonorably. I have no house name now.”

“Then why..?” He asked, glancing over the parchment, “Why are you leaving?”

“His sigil for the Troop of the Seven. If I can obtain it before Ayler realizes where it is, I can claim my own place among the royal guard to King Selreth- I can’t hope for a dragon rider’s position, but anything close to that I’ll happily accept. You know that’s what I’ve always wanted. I was never meant to be down here.” Her eyes glanced to her feet, repeating a mantra she forced herself to believe, “But training with you has always been an honor, swear and true, Sir Bicroy.”

“Why does it feel like you’re saying goodbye?”

Her gaze went up to meet his eyes, the wrinkles around his pulled up from an almost hint of a smile, hidden behind gray and wiry whiskers. He already knew it was a goodbye, “You’re really going to let me go?”

“As much as I want that sigil for myself, I know you’re clever enough to do more with it than I ever could. Good luck, Kotaphira.”

A lump in her throat prevented her from responding. Instead, she nodded and offered her arm to him, and he took it in his own firmly, giving it a good shake. Her respect for him raised, and her mouth pressed into a thin line as she nodded a last time before he turned and left her tent. After gathering the rest of her things, she wondered about the moment they shared then, and why she felt resentment, despite the fatherly figure he held. On her walk toward the horses to ready her own, she realized just why he tried to hold her back all those years, and the dawning feeling made her heart sink. He didn’t see her as a soldier like the men, but more of a daughter. She remembered briefly a rumor she’d heard that he’d had a daughter who’d died from the Illness who was about her age when she had joined the squadron, and his little girl was always excited for the festival of lights.

Pausing her movements on strapping the last buckle of her horse’s bridle in place, she looked up to the stars and the moons that glowed as curved slivers in the sky. They would be aligned in a month’s time with the sun, marking the three day Festival of Lights that most cities with a high population of Elfirrin or Elfirrin born would celebrate. In Derhan, most people would travel to the capital of Maerise for the festivities. “Guess I’ll have to wait until next year to really enjoy the fun.”