Welcome to Gaia! ::

*Many people think of "dimensions" as "length, breadth, height", and they're correct ... insofar as this goes. There are others who think of "dimensions" as "Gaea, Faerun, Narnia, Deva, Midkemia, and so forth" ... and they, too, are right. For there are countless dimensions, all different, often with differing levels of technology and culture.*

*In one dimension ... we shall call it "Earth Prime" ... there is a small device no larger than a finger which projects a red dot of light. Though originally envisioned as a weapon or tool, and eventually designed as a "pointer", this device is most commonly used to torture cats into self-inflicted whiplash by making them chase the dot in figure-8 patterns against the wall.*

*Though not many in the dimension of Gaea -- called Gaia by its inhabitants -- are familiar with this practice, anyone who sees the next morning's disagreement between the man known as Dragonbait and the enchanted item known as the "self-propelled quill" would have some idea of how the cats look. For his part, though he doesn't know it, Dragonbait has a good idea of how the cats feel. His hands are bright red from slapping the table split-seconds after the pen flitted away, his eyes are wild from trying to track an inexplicably animated feather, and his nerves are shot.*

*Finally -- one might think "miraculously" -- he manages to snag the quill without being stabbed in the finger. This task accomplished, he holds it tightly while seeking out an inkwell ... which is also going to be a challenge, as none seems to be present. In exasperation, 'Bait fumbles with the pack by his feet until he produces a writing kit. Extracting an ink-bottle one-handed is challenge enough right now, but he uncaps the bottle and shoves the struggling tip into the ink before reaching for parchment.*

*Unfortunately, during this struggle, he has lost track of his surroundings. Thus, when he hears a voice behind him and turns to confront an uncovered centaur breast, he is shocked enough to release the quill and fall back -- scraping his back against the table.*

eek Wagh!

"Are you having troubles, Sir Dragonbait?" *In mild disdain, Aurora stares down at her reluctant part-time companion, who is (for his part) doing a pretty good job of not staring back at her.*

Aurora ... where's your shirt?

"My what?"

Shirt. Blouse. Dress. Brassiere. Boob-cover.

*Confused, she looks down at herself, moving a long lock of hair out of the way to (ahem) improve the view.* "Is there something wrong with them?"

*That didn't help the situation, as 'Bait turns away fast enough to bonk his noggin on the edge of the table.* Um ... why are they visible?

"That is the way of the centaur; we only cover for battle or for formal occasions. Why? Did you never see our Queen Rubin's breasts?"

No, I didn't, and she never tried to show me.

"Then do you think mine unfit, that they should be hidden?"

*Finally, 'Bait stands up, leaning against the table.* I couldn't really judge that, but ... okay, this may sound a bit strange, but in most bipedal cultures, for a female to walk about with her breasts uncovered like that is ... a bit of a faux pas.

"You jest."

Actually, a few stages beyond a faux pas. More like an "oh, crap".

*She replaces the lock of hair, starting to blush slightly.* "I was not aware of this ... though it explains why those mole-bat creatures were giggling so, and one of the werewolves was howling even with no moon visible."

Yeah, well ... just a little friendly advice, here, but you might want to keep them covered. I mean, it's one thing if you're looking for a mate, but --

evil "... what?"

*His failure to notice her tone is a sure sign of how distracted he's become over the last twenty-four hours.* Well, the amount of breast shown is usually an indication of how, er ... willing a woman is. So again, if you were trying to flirt with me --

scream "With you?!"

*When he picks himself from the floor again, 'Bait has a hoofprint on his forehead, and all he can see of Aurora is her tail swishing out the door. Once the world stops spinning, he notices that the quill has taken advantage of his distractedness to wipe itself clean -- on his forearm.*

*To make a long story short (too late) ... he's not having a good day.*

*At first, he thinks someone's calling him "mushy"; that's certainly how a brain feels after being struck by a centaur's hoof. Then he realizes it's a case of mistaken identity, and wonders who around here looks like him. Probably nobody he wants to meet.* Sorry to disappoint you, miss ... wait, you're the ... alpha female, yes?

*Pulling himself as erect as his aching noggin will allow, he manages a polite bow as he struggles to remember a half-heard name.* I greet you, Lady Silvertooth. I am Dragonbait, paladin of Yeshua, and amateur chronicler of the unusual. The original Spelljammer certainly qualifies; thus, my presence. It had not been my intention to interrupt your ceremonies; thus, my departure.

*During all this, he keeps his left hand near his sword hilt; hardly obvious, not even threatening, but ready to draw into a defensive pose if need be. Oh, sure, he's not been threatened by this woman, or any of the lycanthropes outside, but he's had werewolves try to snack on his jugular before; healing took nearly a week.*

*The change in her smile is not lost on the paladin; neither is her gentle correction regarding her name. He notes the first for future observations.* I have encountered such ... gatherings before, and been ... unwelcome. You are quite gracious to one not of your pack.

*He turns towards the main door ... then pauses, trying to remember which of these several actually is the main door. Fortunately, SilverFang seems to know the way.* You had mistaken me for another. There is someone here who looks like me?

*As they walk, he mentally rummages through countless books and stories of various religions, trying desperately to remember Luhara. For the moment, all he can come up with is Selune. Probably a regional variant.*

*That surprises him slightly.* Pardon me? Ah! No, I was trying to remember Luhara. I am ... not of your faith, after all, but I've studied a variety of religions and pantheons. I needed a moment to sort through them in my head. *The fact that his skull is still creased after Aurora's ... expression of annoyance, and thus isn't working at full capacity, is purely coincidental.*

*"Part of the community"? What a laugh. Of course, given the mage who's assembling this community, it might not be a joke after all. Then again, the mage gives every indication of playing not only with an incomplete deck, but of playing with only Jokers.* As for the community, I believe we must go with the second option. Thus far, I've only met yourself, Ontaros, and one ... moogle? Plus the centauri woman who came with me. And I was under the impression that you and your pack were only visiting. How many are here?

*They reach the door and 'Bait steps ahead slightly to open it for her.*

>>A moggle passing to the laundry room offers to take SilverFang's towl, seeing as how it's not going to help her hair anymore, she allowes him to take it with a polite smile and a thank you. She then looks back at her companion<<
Yes, I do. But not all with faith often talk to their Gods. What I've always wondered though, is I hear that for most monothiest their God never talks back. How do you know he's there if he never responds?

(( you're always off gettin yourself hurt aren't ya? Hope you feel better soon ))

>>SilverFang nods as he talks. That does seem pretty convincing, at least some of it<<
Yes. Luhara is our main Goddess and she is the goddess of night and the moon. But there is tribe of *insert goddess's name here (I have her name at home but I'm at Ont's now)*, the goddess of the sun. We unfortunately don't get along with that tribe. I guess you might call us unfriendly rivals. Luhara and I have had conversations, there is no guessing or surprises. I know what she expects of me and I know what she can do for me and my tribe.