Welcome to Gaia! ::

Raemos returned from his morning walk to find his father surprisingly awake. Normally, Mallew slept until the sun was fully up. Aside from Vona (who had a tendency to sleep in these days), he was the last of the household to wake, since Sonia got up at the first light of dawn and Raemos was awake in the dark and early morning. Today, though, Mallew was awake. Present. And, possibly, waiting.

"Morning Sir..." said Raemos cautiously, heading to the basin to wash up before his breakfast.

"Morning, boy." said Mallew, looking out the window at the growing light from the still slivered sun, "How go things? Anything of note?"

"Not much, Sir." Raemos decided to pretend that this was an ordinary occurance, that Mallew often woke and talked to him. The truth was quite a ways off: it felt as though, lately, Mallew had grown more distant and cool towards him than before.

Though Raemos respected his father and looked up to him, he hadn't spoken more than a few words at a time to his father in a long while - Perhaps even since the trip to Serenia. He didn't like feeling so disconnected from any member of his family, but it seemed inevitable. He was growing up, and he was growing up different. The distant, professional coolness was preferable to being treated with anger and disgust.

"The sheron have some sort of coat damage, but I'm hoping that the oil I added to their fodder will help some. Seed oil." he explained, "Only a little, to help brighten them up."

"Right..." Mallew nodded, but Raemos knew he didn't quite understand. The boy opened his mouth to explain that a little bit of seeds and seed oil in the fodder would make their coats shine, and that animals with nice outsides would be more likely to be bought for their insides at a good price, but his father cut him off. "I've got a surprise for you." said Mallew, turning to look at Rae. Rae studied his face, but his father's expression was neutral.

"What sort of surprise, sir?" he asked. He felt guilty about the trepidation he felt at his father's words. He had no reason to be wary of his father. Mallew had never hurt him, except during sparring in training, and had not been particularly cruel to him in any way, even when drunk.

They hadn't done that much lately, either, but it was a busy time of year: they were preparing and choosing stock to sell and butcher for the season, and hoped to make some money. All members of their family were working hard at the ranch, preparing the beasts for the inevitable.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise" said Mallew and Raemos realized, with a chill he didn't understand, that the man was smiling. Actually smiling. How long had it been Raemos wondered, since I've seen him smile? Raemos could not remember. Mallew stood up and Raemos had to resist taking a step back. Why was he so unnerved by his father today? "Lets go and see it, shall we?" said Mallew, walking briskly out the door, grabbing his hat and, oddly enough, his market bag on the way out. It took Raemos a moment to realize that he was to follow him.



A man stood near the spire on the edge of the property, a large, powerful horned man with tanned skin and amber scales- a Dovaa. In the small shade of the spire, Raemos could see a piece of colorful cloth laid out, along with some strange items. He looked at his father, puzzled, but his father kept walking. The dovaa man looked up. "Mallew Medrol?" he asked, smiling, showing shiny white teeth.

"Yes." said Mallew, "Arick Skyeforge?"

"Indeed. I received your letter and payment, and came at the date you requested." the dovaa held out a hand towards his father, and Raemos found himself at ease with the man's smile. "And is this the boy you mentioned?"

Mallew hesitated before he shook Arick's hand firmly. "Yes. Its about time he chose a weapon."

Raemos looked at his father, startled. "A... weapon, Sir?" he asked.

His father looked at him. "Yes. You're 13 now. Its about time you made yourself a proper Ord...." he caught himself, an ugly grimace flashing across his face, "Man. I wrote to Arick Skyeforge and asked him to come by and present the weapons to you himself. I've already paid, now you just have to choose one."

"I... how?" said Raemos, feeling overwhelmed. He looked back at the mat. Three weapons sat there: A bow, a sword, a wand, and a mace. Their strange, almost ethereal shapes looked temporary, and it felt as if they were waiting, patiently, for something... or someone?

Mallew started to respond, his face contorting in annoyance again, but Arick interrupted. "All you need to do is pick up the one you feel you want to use. It will transform into whatever form will suit you best. It may call to you, it may not." his smile was friendly and inviting. Raemos could tell he was a seasoned merchant. "Take your time." he said, giving Mallew an unreadable look, "This is a major decision for you."

Raemos swallowed and approached the weapons. He was unprepared for this, had never, in his wildest imaginings, thought about this moment at all. He knelt by the weapons, looking over their alien forms. He had to choose one? He knew this was a rite of passage of a sort, but he was flustered and nervous, as if he would make a mistake at any given moment. The Dovaa had said to take his time, but he could feel his father's impatience burning into his shoulderblades like twin fangs. He would have to choose something soon.

Raemos's hand hovered over the sharp blade with its filigree and shining metal. He had trained with the sword for a long time. He had used a sword to slay dragons and lirkepts and dunkel. He had thought that he was a swordsman. But, as he looked into its mirrored depths, he realized he didn't want it. It was too fancy and special for him. He wasn't sure if he felt called or not, but he decided not to pick it. This sword was not for him.

He passed over the bow: He had never been very good with a bow on the few occasions he had tried it, and didn't want to be stuck with a weapon he couldn't use.

He paused over the mace. If not the sword, then maybe this? If he followed in his father's path, would he be closer to his father? But, as he looked at the mace, he knew. A life of bashing in chests and skulls was not for him.

He moved on, his hand hovering, finally, over the scepter. For some reason he could not look away. He knew he liked magic. He loved to think about magic and all the ways it could be used. Using magic was both game and utility for him. As he looked at the scepter, he felt attracted to it in a way that he hadn't felt for the sword.

"Damn it boy!" Mallew called, startling Raemos and breaking his concentration. Raemos turned to look at him. "Just pick the damn sword and be done with it."

Arick gave Mallew another unreadable look, and smiled back at Raemos. "It's you'r choice, not his." he said, giving Raemos a nod. Raemos nodded back.

He looked at the sword again, and smiled. "I think I know." he said. With certainty, he reached down and picked up the scepter, feeling it shift in his grasp into a light wand, like a conductor's baton. He traced the intricate patterns on it with his other hand, then turned around, presenting it to the two adults.

Mallew blinked, stunned, before turning on his heel and stalking away.



"Raemos, I'm sorry if I seemed angry and dissappointed earlier..." said Mallew over their meal of roasted root and broth, "The path of a mage is a powerful one... and completely valid for a warrior to take..." he glanced at Sonia. Raemos smiled inwardly and sypathetically: his mother must have had a... talk... with his father. "... I was just surprised that you would pick it over the sword, that's all. But if you feel you're a mage..." Mallew stuck a chunk of root into his mouth and began chewing, "Then you're a mage."

"Thank you." said Raemos, beaming at his father, part in encouragement, and part in relief. He knew it was hard for Mallew to say something like that, and he was grateful: for that and for buying the weapon that was now tied at his belt, ready for use.

"But since you're a mage, and an Oblivionite..." his father said, ignoring his mother's glare, "You're going to need to learn their magic. So... you're going to have to leave."

Sonia stood up from her seat. "Mallew!" she said, rumbling angrily, "I thought we talked about this. No."

He stared right back, his expression cool, almost serene. "Sonia, sit down. He can't learn their dark arts here. We can't teach him and I refuse to have that... magic...” his porcelain calmness fractured briefly, ”anywhere near my home." he shook his head at his fuming wife. "Its best that he learns it properly. Away from us." He continued eating, pointedly ignoring Raemo, who looked on with an expression of shock.

"He's not leaving." she snarled, her wings appearing and arching around her like some sort of protective and angry bird. ”He is not.” Even Raemos felt a trill of fear - he had never seen his mother so angry before, and the very air seemed to vibrate with it, setting his nerves on edge.

"Well, its not like he's leaving tomorrow.” Mallew amended, ”There's too much work to be done." the older Orderite regarded his wife with an almost feline smugness. "I was thinking more along the lines of his 14th birthday. Vona is visiting for that, correct?"

Sonia paused. "Yes... then..." she hesitated, "Then we can all see him off together?"

"Sure." said Mallew, satisfied at her reaction. Sonia sat back down, her wings desummoning and her aura of anger receding.

Raemos suddenly didn't feel like eating. "I... think I'll go to bed early." he said, standing up, "It's been... a heavy day." he returned to his room and dressed for bed, not feeling particularly happy as he set his new wand carefully on his shelf, right next to the figure of Aevah Avi.

He lay on the bed, listening as his parents argued.

"You can't do this, Mallew. said his mother. Raemos could hear the scraping of chairs as she tidied the table. "You can't just kick him out like this."

"I can and I will. He's a man now, its time for him to make his own way in the world. Away from us." said Mallew's voice. The calmness of his voice was a start contrast to the sharp, angry hiss of his mother.

Raemos did not feel like a man. In fact, he didn't know what he felt like. Tired, generally so. And in a sort of limbo.

"You've never liked him." said Sonia's accusingly. Raemos could hear the tears in her voice. "You've never liked him and now you're trying to take him from me."

"I don't know what you're talking about." said Mallew, "I don't dislike the boy. He's a good enough boy... but he's an Oblivionite. We've done the best we can for him, but now its up to him to choose whether he betrays us for his dark goddess or not."

"Mallew, I hate it when you talk like that." Raemos hugged the thin sheets closer to him for comfort, curling inwardly at the pain he head echoed in her words "He's our son..."

"No, Sonia. He's your son." his father interrupted flatly, ”He is not and will never be my son.” there was a pause, the sound of liquid, likely drink. "And you need to accept that he's grown up now." Raemos heard his father's footsteps moving away, towards the outside. He covered his head with a pillow and tried to block out the sound of his mother's weeping.

The day had been long and tiring, and he soon fell into a fitful sleep.

Watch The Skies

I have never seen anything so remarkable in my entire life.

Nothing can compare to the glory of the evening I spent at the peaks of Ayr as the sky itself rained down in a cascade of light. It was truly worthy of weeping, and an excellent send off for my grand adventure with Maeron. I am very excited about that.

I came to Ayr with Vona and our parents to watch this one-of-a-kind event. But they preferred to stay in the Orderite section, and father requested I make my time with them scarce. I was a little upset - I miss Vona dearly and on a regular basis - but I understood his concerns and spent most of my time in the Observation platform area, watching the stars fall.

I had thought it was already a most remarkable sight. I even remarked such to Maeron when he joined me there.

But the shower had not even reached its crescendo.

When it did... It was like the universe had opened up. For a time, I was lost within that shimmering, falling light, no longer Raemos the freak but something more. That light could be anything as it hurtled towards its inevitable fate, and so could I.

For a brief time... So could I.

And then I returned to myself, weeping.

Perhaps I still can be anything, but never again will I be that light.

Incidentally, something from the sky hit the ground somewhere... perhaps Maeron and I will find it on our adventure? Well. Its worth a try! I am excited about our adventure together and hope it goes well... or, at least, I hope I distinguish myself in it.

Crafting Solo: Between Point
Enchantment rank 0 - Enchantment rank 1
Made: Goggles + 5 Defense

Aiding a Smith

It is fascinating how much one can learn indirectly.

Today I finally received my permission to aquire my uniform for the Guardians – a proud moment frought with frustration, I must say. Magic is my passion, but also my weakness. That will be fixed.

I went to the armory, and ended up aiding the smith. We made swords – well, he made the swords. I, of course, did assistant things, things a lofty orderite like him need not spend any of his precious time on.

But, though I was doing menial tasks, I connected those tasks to his task of casting the swords, and to the materials around us.

When I have a free moment with my anvil (or, perhaps, when I am next in the smithy) I think I will try to make a pair of bracers. Those would, of course, be useful for protecting my hands and arms. As a mage, I must take care to keep those intact.

Such a strange thing, to be a mage.

Of course, I can sell them as well. Perhaps I should look at some other examples of bracers tonight... or tomorrow night. I am exhausted.

Note to self: Write Vona. Draw a picture of the bulky orderite smith to tease her about her taste in men.

Ah, yes. I was paid for my work. I now have a fine sword that I hope will strike down much evil! It is currently undesigned, but I plan on changing that! And perhaps enchanting it! I have ideas for what sort of decorations my new sword will bear... Now to find the time and the means...

Anyway... Mmm... yes. Early night, I think.

Crafting Solo: Light to combat Darkness
Enchantment rank 1 - Enchantment rank 2
Made: Sword: +20 Light Damage


Raemos had returned to camp with the other two, as ordered, and had been seen to by a healer. He could well believe that wounds caused by the filthy creatures, though shallow, would become horribly infected.

Selza - Private Sterben - had told him a few stories during the healing - and during their watch - about the Yvazhi's origins, and he could believe that their origins were both magical and foul. She had certainly brought their magical foulness to life with her stories. He envied her ability to make her spoken words come alive. He was a mere shadow of her storytelling ability. She was, though, also a good bit older than him.

She was not, he had decided, a bad person. In fact, given time, he could probably respect her beyond what her rank alone would entitle her to. He could not, though, look beyond her Soudanan traits. She seemed all right now, but how far down did that really go? How long could her dark nature be suppressed?

Either way, she had gone on patrol, leaving him on watch at the camp and it was somewhat boring with just him. More so still, when one of the Dovaa came to take his watch, leaving him bored and awake. He didn't feel like writing in his journal, or attempting to sketch one of the ugly monsters, so he went for his other pastime craft, more profitable than either.

He rifled through his pack, taking out his work cloth, his ink, and his pen, setting it all out in an organized, methodical fashion. He thought for a moment, and then, smiling excitedly, he drew his sword and unhooked his scabbard, laying it out on the cloth. He knew exactly what he would do, and he had been looking forward to trying it out for some time.

He took out the bottles of softly glowing water and the bag full of shimmering scales - a memory of his meal of years ago with the Aedaun khehora. Such an interesting person she had been. Her purpose was not entirely sane, he realized, but if some of her brilliant dedication had leaked into the scales he had carried with him, then they might impart some of that dedication to him, too. He would like that, very much.

He laid out, also, his book of recipes and flipped it to the page that the beautiful enchantress had helped him with. Light magic he read, and began to follow the instructions.

As he cleaned the sword and scabbard with one of the bottles of Tyulafel water, he felt someone standing over him. They soon crouched, watching him, and a glance told him it was the Seargent - the half-dovaa.

"What are you doing, Recruit?" she asked. He wiped off the sword and scabbard, noting how they shone in the firelight.

"Enchanting, Ma'am." he said, setting them down to dry as he began to grind up the pearly scales.

"Is it a craft or a hobby?" she asked.

"A bit of both, Ma'am..." he said, beginning to carefully mix the scale powder with the rest of the Tyulafel water and the ink, chanting quietly to activate the magic and turn it into a usable, silvery, inky, fluid.

"Interesting." she said, as he dipped his pen into the mixture and began to write the runes of light on his weapon, "So. Medrol. I thought I would get to know you."

He did not look up - the runes required his full concentration. "Yes Ma'am?"

"So. You are a mage?"

"Yes."

"But you use a sword?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Raemos paused, looking up briefly as he dipped his pen in the ink again. "I like the balance, Ma'am. Of sword and magic."

"Hmm... Interesting... All right." She watched as he continued his runes, "I heard that you have a very interesting past." He looked up abruptly, and she pointed him back to his work before he could ruin his runes. "Eyes on your enchanting, Recruit." she said, "Will this interesting past be a problem?"

He took extra care in marking the runes on the blade. "What do you mean, Ma'am?"

"You were raised by Orderites." she said bluntly, "Will working with Orderites be a problem?" he looked up, surprised, and she pointed him back down.

"Not at all, Ma'am!" he said, emphatically, dipping his pen in the ink again and continuing, "I am very happy with that."

She was quiet as he scrawled on the sword, silvery glowing runes sinking their magic into the metal. "Dovaa?" she said, after a moment.

"No, Ma'am."

"... Hybrids?" he could hear that his response to that question was given the most weight.

"No Ma'am." he didn't really have a problem with hybrids, unless they had the empty eye sockets of the Oblivionites, or were clearly favoring their Oblivionite blood. There weren't any obvious part Oblivionites that he had seen in the group, so it was not really an issue.

He could feel her watching him as he wrote the enchantment on the hilt and added the finishing touches to the rest of the blade, finalizing the magic on it.

"But you do have a problem with some aspect of the group..." she said, half - it seemed - to herself. Raemos set aside the sword and brought the scabbard forward, intending to enchant it with a linked enchantment. He had read about such a method: it would ensure that the enchantment on the sword stayed new and refreshed, and – of course - would also look very neat. "What is your problem with our group, Recruit? Tell me now."

"Is that an order, Ma'am?" he asked her, looking up uneasily.

"It certainly is." she said, and he flinched under her keen gaze. He swallowed, and looked to his work.

"Oblivionites." he mumbled after some hesitation, dipping his pen in the remaining ink, "If I have a problem, it is with them." He felt uneasy admitting it, but he had promised his uncle that he would not lie - not where it mattered, anyway. Politeness did not, he considered, count.

"Oblivionites...?!" she said, clearly startled, "Are you serious?!"

He sighed, and began to write the sparser, more aesthetic runes on the scabbard. "Yes, Ma'am."

She was quiet as he used the rest of the ink. "Well... That makes a twisted bit of sense..." she mumbled to herself, "Thank you for letting me know." He nodded, carefully working the magical design. She spoke again. "However, you are to treat Corporal and Private Sterben with respect and stand by them despite your feelings. Is this clear?"

"Of course, Ma'am." he said, finishing the scabbard and sitting back, stretching, "I will be professional according to my rank, Ma'am." he said, giving her a meaningful look. He meant it.

"Good." she said, looking over the drying sword and scabbard, "Mind enchanting a few things for me later, Recruit?" she asked, smiling. He nodded. "Good. Get some rest now, tomorrow is going to be a long day of killing Yvazhi." he nodded again, and watched her as she left, thoughtful.

He's met the Whole Family now...

Raemos had a promotion and leave and, as he often did, he visited the Tukyere market in search of a good time.

A good time buying stuff, of course. Not any other good time... Of course not.

He had gotten used to the hybrids of Tukyere in their varied forms. He could even get over the eyeless ones, though perhaps it was because he was spending so much time with his group... which had all of one Oblivionite in it, but still - That was more than he was used to.

Selza Storben, however, was an exceptional Oblivionite in Raemos's mind. That is, not like the others. Not like her brother, certainly. Raemos was not a fan of Talon Storben, and avoided the mage as best he could. Raemos was sure the feeling was mutual.

Unfortunately, despite his pocket jingling with his earnings and his mind being primed and ready to barter, there were no vendors in sight. Not a one. The market was bizzarely silent and barren today. The normal noise of the city traffic was faint and distant, blending into the normal soft windy sounds of the desert and the nearby mountainous Expanse.

He wandered through skeletal, empty stalls, puzzled. Normally, the market bustled and burbled with people and wares and the cries of vendors hawking their wares. It unnerved him, this silence, and he felt the skin at the back of his neck prickle. It was the sort of feeling one gets during a spooky story, or when something is eerie or uncanny. It was not a comfortable feeling.

Finally, after wandering for about an hour, he came upon a stall that was neither skeletal nor empty. It glittered with vibrant, familiar fabrics and had a heady scent around it, of herbs and magic and mystery.

His palms began to sweat and his heart began to pound. The enchantress! She was there! Here! Incidentally- completely so, of course- he'd been hoping to buy some more enchantment materials and, with the market like this... clearly this was the only place to get them. It would be a great excuse to go inside.

He straightened out his uniform and pushed the tent flap aside, entering the smoky, dim interior. It was just as he remembered. Magic was everywhere, and he could feel its familiar tingle dance along his skin. And there, at the worktop, was the enchantress, as beautiful as he remembered... more beautiful now, indeed, than remembered. "Hello?" he called out, and regretted it as she jerked up, startled.

"Oh! Hello!" she said, her voice sliding over him like smooth syrup. He shivered, though he had to notice - not for the first time - how much her voice resembled Cearlans. Briefly, he wondered what it would be like for them both to be together, in the same room. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands inconspicuously in front of him.

"I'm sorry to have startled you." said Raemos observing how her robes, though loose, somehow accentuated every pleasing curve of her body.

"Oh no, no. Not a problem at all, my dear." she said, stretching gracefully, "Its just so quiet, not at all your fault."

"Is there something going on?" asked Raemos, licking his lips with his suddenly dry tongue.

"Oh, yes," she said, smiling at him, her perfect lips and teeth making his heart shudder with pleasure, "A festival by the tree. Its a big event..." she sighed and looked at her worktable, "Alas, I'm stuck here, with these commission..." she brushed her delicate hands on the clothen construction currently there and the runes already etched into it. "Actually, I was going to ask Cearlan to find you again... My shelves broke again and I need your help..."

She needed his help again. Just the thought was delightful... but... "Oh? You know Cearlan Verhaan?" That they knew each other was remarkable... but how? Dire scenarios passed through his mind. If they were dating each other, than they were both so far out of his league that it was depressing.

"Mmm. He is my half brother." she said, turning distractedly to her work once more, "Thank you so much for your help..."

Raemos wasn't sure how to feel about her revelation, and it had yet to entirely sink in because she. Needed. His. Help.

He hadn't agreed, but he wasn't going to disagree, so he set to fixing the shelves, watching her work on a cape, a necklace, and, finally, as he finished, a sword shaped like a fang. "What are you doing with that?" he asked, brushing himself off and peering at it curiously.

"Mmm?" she looked up, "Oh, yes. This is a draining enchantment. Every time it strikes, it steals the enemy's life force and gives it to the attacker..." He watched as she ground dried dunkel wing into an ink-and-herb mixture and began to paint the runes on. "Hold this for me, will you?" she said absently as she worked through it. Raemos watched what she did closely (and professionally)... so much so that he didn't notice when a certain etherially beautiful Orderite male came into the tent.

~~~

"Hello Raemos! Hello Celieda!" said a musical voice.

The enchantment was just about complete, so Raemos's startlement did not disturb anything important. "Corporal Verhaan! What a surprise to see you!" he said. He reeled internally as he realized that Cearlan and the enchantress were, indeed, in the same room together. Siblings or not – and he still couldn't get over that fact - it was a lovely mental image, lovelier still when given voice and reality.

"I've told you, Raemos, call me Cearlan." he gave his sister a hug, which she accepted gracefully, "Is he being a good help?"

"Oh yes, Cea..." she said, her smile brightening the whole room with its beauty, "He is most helpful. I'm so glad you could lend him to me!" She set the sword up in a special rack to dry, and turned her smile on Raemos. "I must get you a reward." Raemos knew she meant money, but reward could mean so many things... So many tantalizing things... to an imagination like his own and, briefly, he entertained the fantasy, smiling foolishly at the thoughts.

Raemos could feel Cearlan looking at him, and, blushing, bit his lip self conciously. Finally, Cearlan man spoke. "You fancy her, huh?" he said, smirking. Raemos felt his stomach drop in embarrassment. Was he that obvious? Moreso, was he that crass? "Its all right." said Cearlan, clearly amused, "Everybody does. But you are way out of your league, as you are about to..." he was interrupted by a booming sound, like a roar. "...find out. Don't worry." he eyed Raemos, "Its a friend."

The tallest being that Raemos had ever seen lumbered into the tent. It was like a dragon, complete with wings, tail, and powerful jaws, but it - he - stood upright, cloaked with an air of power, arrogance, and confidence befitting his draconic visage.

"CELIEDA, MY LOVE!" the massive man thing boomed, "I HAVE ARRIVED!"

"Yes, Isitar" purred the enchantress's silken voice from the back, "I can hear that." She emerged and was soon enveloped in a powerful and passionate embrace before she pulled away. "Just a moment, dear. I must pay the boy for his invaluable help."

Raemos liked being invaluable, but he shrunk back as the dragon man's fierce eyes were turned on him, then to Cearlan.

"HELLO CEARLAN." boomed the dragon man, looming over to hug the Orderite, who smiled and accepted it with grace. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Isitar. Its always good to see you around. How are you?" said Cearlan, smiling and giving Raemos a hidden wink.

"I am well!" boomed the dragon man, his eyes returning to Raemos, "And is this the friend you spoke of? The one who has been so helpful?"

"Yep." said Cearlan, breaking gently away from the hug, "This is him." he turned to Raemos, "Raemos, this is Isitar, of the Naluuth clan. He's a Firani Khehorian. Isitar, this is Raemos Medrol. He'll be working with me a lot on this upcoming mission..."

"He also fixed my shelves again..." said the enchantress, emerging yet again with a jangling bag, "and, Cearlan dear, you forget not everybody knows what a khehorian is. A khehorian..." she explained, "Is a khehora that becomes powerful enough to go through a special ritual that gives them the ability to take on a two-legged form..." she stroked Isitar's arm, "It is very handy."

Raemos had the capability of imagining just how useful it could be, but he was more focused, at that moment, on how MASSIVE Isitar was, and his large teeth and claws. Smaller than a khehora's but still intimidating. The woman really was out of his league.

"Mmm..." purred the khehorian before turning his attention back to Raemos, "I must thank you too, then, since you are so helpful to my family!" he said, scooping Raemos into a hug before he could react. He patted the khehorian awkwardly as he watched Cearlan's face crease with amusement.

b*****d he thought, gorgeous b*****d.

"I know what I will do!" boomed Isitar, "I will teach him an enchantment of fire, and then take him hunting! I will do this today!" he thought for a moment, "I will do this now!" he reaffirmed, nodding to himself.

The enchantress laughed. "Very well then." she said, offering the money to Raemos, "Just come back soon, my dear, I have not seen you in so long..."

"Mmm..." murmured Isidar, "I won't be long..."

Raemos frowned at the money. "I do not need money, ma'am... Your... and his... thanks are enough..." And not being eaten by angry khehor...ians? that would be good too.

Cearlan shook his head. "Take it. We'll need it for the next job." Raemos looked at him questioningly as he took the money from his sister and he shook his head at Raemos. Later he seemed to say, and Raemos supposed it would have to be.

"Come!" said the Khehorian, half-dragging Raemos away, "I will show you my encampment, and the secrets of imbuing armor with Fire. And then we will hunt Fuereches!"

He was very strong, and Raemos had no choice but to go along.

Cearlan kissed his sister's cheek and waved. "See you later, sis." he said, before he followed them out into the hot air of Tukyere.

Sonia's Letter
Alchemist Adventure

Raemos...

My dear sweet boy... Come home. I'm sure you've heard about these rock monsters in Eowyn...

Oh my Raemos, I need to hold you close, you and your sister. I just need you here with me. I can't do these things on my own... I've sent your sister a note, too... She should be in Taliuma soon, I think.

Rae... I don't know what to do. Mallew's been hurt and I've been so unkind to him since you left... I was so angry. But none of that matters now. I'm so scared, Raemos.

Please come home. Bring a healer if you can.

I love you Raemos. You and Vona. I love you both so much. Please come home...

- Sonia Valis

Raemos folded the letter and put it back in his pocket, running his fingers through his dark dreadlocks nervously as he regarded the Taliuma port.

The letter had been enough to grant him leave to visit his mother. Any non Orderite Guardians not specifically hired for a particular job had been sent to Eowyn anyway to deal with this new threat, and his official contract with Sueno and her parents had been delayed. Family emergencies, after all, trumped even friendship. Selza and the Ysali had arrived the day before and headed of to Tukyere to restock and report in. He wished they hadn't. The Ysali was many things: annoying was one of them - but he was also a healer.

"Rae?" he turned to see that Vona had finally gotten off the ship. She was the reason why he had delayed a day. She'd found him at the port and he'd decided to board her ship. Their father was injured, possibly dying, and he hadn't wanted to leave her alone.

"Yeah." He took her stuff, hefting it carefully.

"Lets take a stop in the market..." she said. He looked at her and understood.

"Supplies. Useful items. That sort of thing." he nodded, "I'll take these things to an inn and set up a room. Mom's favorite inn?"

Vona nodded. "Yes. Meet you there at sundown."

"For dinner." he said, agreeing.

"Mhmm." she said.

They parted, and Raemos sought out the inn that he and their mother had stayed in for as long as he could remember. It was just as it had always been - pleasant, by the seaside, and inexpensive. The people there remembered him. He hadn't realized how much they had known abut his unique situation already - his Oblivionite-ness - and he surmised that his mother must have told them.

Setting up the room was easy. All he had to do was ask, and show them the letter, and they gave it to him for free - a decent enough double that he could set the luggage in - and a dinner for two, hearty and healthy. Breakfast would be on the road in the morning.

With that done, he set out into the market.

The Taliuma market was refreshingly organized, and he easily picked up a good set of decent supplies - Vona would get more, he was sure, but the house probably needed all the extra supplies they could get.

He was stressed and decided to splurge a bit, buying a booklet on the crafting of small objects for use and repair. Not a splurge, really - more a practical purchase. That was how he rationalized it to himself, anyway. Not much to rationalize about the set of three spell tomes he bought, though. That was purely for pleasure and comfort. He needed it.

He and Mallew had been distant, especially as of late, but Raemos remembered how he had felt when the man had praised him after the Borgnah hunt, and how he had wanted to make him proud for so long. Raemos was more confident now, but Mallew's appreciation still meant a lot to him...

He made his way back to the inn, his throat dry, not entirely from thirst. He hoped they made it in time. He hoped he could tell his father how much the man meant to him before it was too late. It was something he had to do, even if the man didn't feel the same way about his disgusting abomination of a son.

[The cute Familiar]