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Serenia Visit
Response For: To Shade the Light, To make Safe for All
378 Words

To: The Guardian HQ, Ashen City Branch
From: Raemos Medrol, Corporal, Tukyere Branch

I am reporting the deaths of two adult Aedaun dragons and about seven-eight of their offspring on the lake shore in this past Ice Moon. I was at the lake for reasons unrelated to my duties as a Guardian falling under the categories of Recreation and Family/kin.

They were nesting in a well-appointed lakeside cottage, owned by the Valnora family, one of whom is personally known to me. The cottage suffered significant damage in the process of being converted to a nest by the dragons – they welcome any carpentry recommendations.

Among the debris at the nest were magescian corpses, presumably orderite, taken as food for the nestlings. I am assuming they were attacking the roads and villages nearby, but they could well have been feeding from the wild tribes of the forest or outlaws. Along the roads there was also evidence of banditry, supporting rumors of that kind. That the dragons were so comfortable nesting where they did – in a high class area – and also in taking the prey that they did implies that something might have happened to a patrol.

As I am not here officially, and have pressing obligations that will shortly bring me back to Eowyn, I cannot follow up on this myself...

“Vona?” Raemos called, his pen pausing on the paper. He was warming himself by the fire after his adventures by the cool lake, drafting his report to his guild.

“Yeah?”

“Would it be presumptuous of me to advise my superiors in any way?”

“Depends, I guess. I don't know.” she said, “They're good people, right? Competent?”

“Yes. I expect so.”

“Then don't bother. They'll read between the lines.” she said, shrugging.

He resumed his letter.

Any requests for my personal account or assistance can be delivered through Captain Nohr Miris, of the Tukyere Branch.

Thus finished, he folded it into an addressed envelope and sealed it with the Guardian's seal, setting it out with the rest of the outgoing mail.

“There.” he said, “Done...” he looked towards her and smiled, “Now, Vona, when was dinner again?”

“Hopefully now!” she said, and took his arm, “C'mon, lets go see.”


[An Aedaun Dragon with its nestlings]

Taking Some Adjustment
Response for On the Range,
Stampede
417 Words

Cold, wet, and miserable, Raemos returned to the cottage. This wasn't the first time he had gotten caught out in a downpour, and he knew it wouldn't be the last. His misery was due to something completely different.

He dried off his sensitive wings and his tail. He had thought long and hard about them, these new appendages he was cursed with. What they meant, what they were.

He wasn't going to excise them, he had decided. They were his, and the thought was a fairly terrible one to contemplate. No, he would have to live with them, and the consequences of his blood. Of what he was.

Sonia came in, equally drenched. Upon seeing him, she dashed to him and held him tight. “Oh Raemos...” she said, “I was so... so worried about you, out there all alone...”

“I'm fine, ma.” he said softly, sadly.

“Whats wrong?” she said, picking up on his tone, “Are you hurt? Oh Rae, did you get injured?”

“No.” he said, sighing, “Not injured... Ma, I think its time for me to leave.” he said.

“What? As in, leave for active duty again?” her hand rested gently on his wings, “Are you sure you're ready?” she asked quietly.

“Yes.” he said.

“Well then, good.” she said, nodding, “If you think you're ready, you might as well get out there, right?”

“Ma, I don't think I should come back.” he blurted. Sonia stared at him in shock. “I'm too different, Ma. I'm not like you. I'm not like father. I'm not like Vona... and I can't pretend anymore.” His tail lashed in agitation, “I'm sorry ma...”

“Raemos...” Her expression turned into one of exasperation, “Don't be ridiculous. You're my son, Raerae, whether you've got wings, a tail, scales, bug legs... or whatever. This is your home, and its always open to you...” she kissed his cheek, “Though if you keep talking nonsense, I might make you clean it. Now...” she gave him a little shove, “How about some soup?”

~~~

When Raemos left with his friends for the Guardian HQ, he was still not sure what to think about his wings or his tail, or even if he should ever see the cottage again. In the end, though, he knew it didn't matter – he would be able to do his job, and he would do it well, and perhaps then he would know what to think about what he had gained... or lost.

[Raemos, w/ wings and tail, riding off into the horizon cowboy style]

Cearlan's Death
Solo
1017 Words
It was with a heavy heart that Raemos entered the richly decorated tent in the more exotic part of Tukyere's market – if such a thing were possible in the varied town of hybrids. The scent of herbs and heat and magic met his senses, bringing with it a nostalgia that threatened to ruin his careful composure. It had been a mere year ago that he had first walked into this tent. He felt a lifetime away from the mere boy he had been, then. He remembered her, the enchantress Celieda, as beautiful as any myth and as entrancing as any magic. He had since grown to know her and her growing family. Most of all, he had known her brother very well. At the thought of Cearlan, his throat clenched with sorrow, and he wished it was happier business that brought him to her tent this warm, dry evening.

“Raemos!” she greeted, peering out from behind the curtain that separated her living quarters from her store. “I wasn't expecting you! Give me a moment, my dear, and I shall be right with you!” she disappeared behind the curtain again, and Raemos, briefly, smelled a strong, herbal scent. Raemos had little time to identify it only as a healer's draught of some kind, before she emerged with her usual grace and charm.

Celieda Verhaan was as beautiful as he had been the very first day Raemos had met her, the expanding dome of her belly seeming to add to her enchanting mystique. Sometimes, when he had worked with her, he had imagined what it would be like to run his hands along its smooth, naked flesh, to kiss it along with her bosom. Of course, his imagination would play out the fantasy in full, and it would include her ferocious and jealous khehorian mate, and his prodigious claws and fangs. Plus, he was her brother's lover, and Cearlan had – expressly – told him not to touch her. For those reasons, and out of respect for her as a person of obvious power, Raemos kept them as simply the natural and harmless fantasies of a teenager for a very beautiful woman. To think such things now, though, in this situation, seemed wrong to him, and so the idle fantasies, coming unbidden, only added guilt and agony to his sorrow.

“I'm so glad to see you!” she said musically, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek, “I always do worry when you and Cear go off on your missions! It is so very dangerous out there.” she smiled, “You, me, and Cearlan should have dinner together. To talk about your adventures... The latest one was a protection job, correct? A rather ornery Orderite merchant? I do hope he didn't treat you too badly...” she chuckled and retreated, as graceful as a dancer despite the awkwardness of her temporary girth, “I know his type, you see.”

“Celi...” Raemos murmured. It hurt to see her so happy, when he knew what he did. He would have to tell her and destroy that joy, and the knowledge of it hurt him all the more. But he had to be the one to tell her... for many reasons.

“Where is my brother?” she peered around him, “Not with you?”

“No... Celi, I...” He swallowed, “I'm sorry Celi. Cearlan... he's... he's gone.”

“Gone.” she said. Her smile faded and if Raemos had had eyes, he would have looked away in shame at destroying its radiance. “What do you mean, gone?” she asked, her voice a little harsher. Her beautiful eyes were suspicious, wary. Raemos had a feeling she already knew.

“He's dead, Celieda.” he said, managing to keep his composure despite the knots he could feel forming in his throat.

“What...?”

“Your brother... He's dead.” Celieda moved back and sank, carefully, into a chair, her feathered wings blossoming from her back to help her balance.

“Dead...” she whispered, stunned, “What happened. How?” Her wings slumped around her, as if confused to their purpose. Were they for protection or for fleeing? Should she bear the pain of his words, or flee them?

Raemos forced himself to banish his fancies, though the philosophic distraction they offered was tempting. “There was a... bandit. He attacked the caravan. We managed to run him off, but...” he shook his head grimly, “An arrow took him.” he said, “Through the skull. I don't think...” he staved off another shiver of emotion, “I don't think he felt anything.”

Celieda nodded slowly. “No.” she said, her voice dull, “He... wouldn't have.” she closed her eyes a moment. “His body...?”

“At headquarters.” he said quietly, “I saw to its transport and care myself... you can claim it...” the words felt bitter – he was speaking of Cearlan's body – his lover's body – as if it was a lost object to be claimed and returned to its owner. It was the opposite – an object that had lost its owner. It would never be truly reclaimed. “I'll... make sure there is no paperwork... So that you can do so quickly...”

Celi nodded. “And... the bandit?”

“Gone.” he said, the hateful memory returning of the dark archer's flight, “He escaped.”

“I see.” she took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes. “Thank you, Raemos.” she said, “For being the one to tell me... If you could... come back later...”

Raemos nodded – he understood her perfectly - He needed to be alone, too. “I'll come back at nightfall, to take you up to the Headquarters.”

“Yes.” she said, “Do that.”

And with that, he retreated. As the tent flap closed behind him, he heard her wail – a heart-wrenching expression of pure grief, and the emotions he had bottled up inside of him came pouring out. He began to cry as he walked away from the tent, his body shuddering with sobs he hadn't been able to allow for days. Finally, he could cry. Finally he could acknowledge the horrible truth.

Cearlan was dead.

Cearlan was gone forever.

[A Pyre for Cearlan]

Coming of Age
Solo
1589 Words

It began with a monstrous hunger that pervaded all else. Raemos' appetite had always been decent, appropriate for that of a young man, but it had never been in excess.

However, not long after the Sterbens arrived at the Medrol ranch on their break from the guild, his appetite suddenly tripled. He felt like a bottomless pit, and it was a struggle to not take more than his fair share at the supper table. Even then, he often found himself trying to get a snack in the late night. His mother noticed, of course, and was concerned, and she frequently checked his temperature in a suitably maternal way, but there was nothing – no raised temperature, no fatigue, no dizziness.

Just insatiable hunger.

And then the pains began, phantom pains along his back that would steadily increase in intensity and then vanish suddenly. It was most peculiar, but as they vanished quickly, he thought nothing of it. They were the artifacts of old wounds, he decided, though he had never been seriously wounded in his back.

His appetite grew still further until he would, shamefully, find himself scrounging through their stores in the barn for something edible to satiate the pangs of hunger inside.

His father noticed now, and was flummoxed – for all his sons flaws, gluttony had never been one of them. The Sterbens watched him more thoughtfully, talking amidst themselves quietly when they thought he wasn't looking. When he asked them what they were talking about, they shook their heads and said nothing. Nothing, it was nothing.

Raemos, however, knew it was not nothing. Not anymore. The pains had increased in frequency, and his skin felt stretched and thin. It was definitely something - something quite concerning, and he resolved to talk to Junjie about it when he returned to Tukyere.

Then the sandstorm hit, and he never got a chance to consult his healer. He had just finished closing the shutters against the encroaching and harsh winds when the pains struck again, more terrible than before. He fell to the floor with a cry as the pains grew, becoming deeper and more visceral with every second. His back felt as though it was going to burst - as if he was about to split open and spill his vital parts out onto the floor with every beat of his heart. He writhed on the floor as his mother rushed to his side.

“Raemos?! Raemos, what is it?” she cried. The sandstorm's distinctive roar was but a purr yet, sand skittering on the walls of their home like insectoid heralds. He moaned in pain – he didn't know what was happening, only that he hurt.

“There's no need to worry, Mrs. Medrol.” said Talon Sterben's level voice. Raemos heard it barely, as if over a distance.

“Then what is happening?!” Sonia implored, “He's burning up and... and he's in pain. Why should I not worry?!”

“It's completely natural.” said Talon. Raemos felt the man – his nemesis' – hands on his back. “Strip him down.”

“What?” Sonia's voice was defensive, but Raemos was in too much pain to appreciate her protection. “Why?!”

“He's coming of age.” said Talon, neatly undoing the buttons on Raemos' shirt – loose and informal for ranch work - “His wings and tail are coming in, and his third eye is beginning to.” he gently took off the shirt. Raemos could feel every movement of the cloth as fire on his skin and he tried to struggle against it, but he could barely move. His muscles would not obey his commands. “For Selza and myself, it was relatively painless. For others, it is quite traumatic.” he explained, starting on Raemos' pants, “It seems that Sargent Medrol's growth will follow the latter.”

Beyond his pain, Raemos heard the sandstorm begin its howling.

“Oh gods...” exclaimed his mother. Raemos decided that, from the horror he glimpsed in her eyes, whatever she saw could not be good... and how could it, when it hurt so much?

“Help me get him to a bed – we will lay him on his stomach” said Talon. Raemos felt himself being lifted, and he had to close his eyes to stop the queasiness, “Hopefully, with care, he will come through this.”

~~~

Raemos was not fortunate enough to pass out from the pain. Instead he drifted, delirious and weak, as his back shifted and grew and ached. Sometimes, the cool relief of a water-soaked rag was pressed to his back, his forehead, his neck. Other times, he felt as dry as the desert in the daytime.

It felt like days, but he knew – rationally, in what aspect of reason remained through the pain and illness – that only hours had passed. The sandstorm still raged outside. Talon and Selza had been explaining what was happening to him to his parents, but he occilated between desperately wanting to know and fervently not caring and so he wasn't clear on what was happening. All he really wanted to know was when it would be over.

He was aware, though, when the guest came.

There was a desperate banging at the door and Sonia, not one to ignore such a thing, opened it a crack. Raemos watched, dazedly, as the crack became wider and allowed in a willowy, oddly familiar Oblivionite woman wrapped in sand-warding cloth.

“I apologize for the inconvenience...” she said, “But I had nowhere to shelter...”

“Thats... all right, you can shelter here until it passes.” said Sonia. Raemos could hear Mallew's grumbling and he felt terrible for his father amidst all these Oblivionites, but any feeling was soon swept away by another spasm of pain. He could feel them now, the cursed appendages that were his wings and tail. They flopped and spasmed and grew like Ysali-magicked plants, but he was in too much pain to hate them for what they were – his curse, his terrible Oblivionite heritage. Was the pain a punishment from Seren, for sympathizing with the people of the dark land, or from Soudana, for denying her a weapon? He couldn't tell – the pain confused him and made both equally likely.

“What is wrong with him?” asked the woman. Her voice was beautiful and throaty, the sort of voice that could play a melody with the hearts of others and bend the world to her will, if she wished it.

“He is growing in his wings.” Selza's voice. It frightened Raemos to hear a note of concern in it. Selza was never concerned, not about anything. She was a carefree person who did as she pleased. If she was concerned... it boded ill.

“Ah.” the woman said, “My brother... his grew in harshly, too. In return for you kindness in sheltering me, would you permit me to tend him?”

“Oh! Yes! Please!” said Sonia. It hurt to hear the relief in his mother's voice. He must be so disgustingly horrible in this state if even his own mother did not want to tend to him.

~~~

The woman was gentle and tender, wiping away the unspeakable oozes that seeped from Raemo's growing wings and tail, and cooling his brow.

“Hush little baby, don't say a word...” she sang softly, “Mama is home to see her little bird...” It was a lullaby, and it eased some of the tension growing in his forehead, soothing him towards blessed unconciousness. “When that bird, his wings have grown, Mama is going to show him who else has flown...” it was an odd lullaby, to be sure, but they all were in the end. Raemos would take anything to ease his pain. He felt himself drifting away. “Fly fly away, my little Sanadeyr...” her hands were soft and cool on his brow, and, just before he fell into nothingness, he could swear that she had kissed him on his head. “We shall meet again beneath the moon...”

And with that, blessed unconciousness took him, and he finally slept amid the roar of the sandstorm.

~~~

When Raemos came to, the guest was gone, and the aches had faded. He felt disoriented and fatigued, but he was able to sit up, and as he did, something unfamiliar and leathery flopped into his vision. He recoiled, startled, only to realize what it was.

A wing. A leathery, multi-fingered, clawed, demon wing.

The cabin was quiet, all its occupants and the remaining guests outside, checking on the herds and doing repairs... leaving Raemos alone to find a mirror and look at the terrible changes he had undergone... and weep in peace.

He could pretend no more.

~~~

Not long afterwards, he and the Sterbens left for the guild. His mother protested, of course, but he managed to convince her that it was for the best. What he didn't tell her was that, as he looked back at the home of his childhood, he had to struggle to bite back tears in the moisture-thieving desert at the knowledge that he could never return to those days. He was too different now, to tainted by the magic and the blood that ran through his veins. He was too changed.

It was a truth that echoed in his mind through the trek back to Headquarters, a horrible truth that made him weep at night for days afterwards in his bunk as he wrapped himself in his new wings and twitched his new tail.

He could never return home.

[Raemos's wings, back]

Hello, from Aisko
Too Cold for this, Its Freezing, Warming Up
196 Words
----

Dear Vona,

Aisko is two very different places: it is either a land of endless monotony, or a realm of great danger. I have seen both. Terrific battles with its fauna are interspersed with cold, shivering boredom and the constant presence of death.

Soon, very soon, Maeron and myself will leave our campsite for the adventure previously promised. I hope to return with many tales and treasures. I suppose, though, that you will have to visit to see them.

I never felt welcome in the land of light, though I loved it as any Orderite should. And now, with my wings and tail grown, as I said, it is most inappropriate for me to return. I hope your courting goes well, and if it ever should not... you know who to write. I am always on your side, your dearest brother, whatever... else... I am.

Forgive the berevity of this letter – it is too cold to write more than this. I shall endeavor to make up for it with quantity, which I hope will reach you. Even if I must carry them to you myself.

With love and warm fondness in this cold land,

[Xenosa Sketch]

A Shadow Walking in the Sun

Today, as I was walking in Seren's blessed light, I came across a most interesting pair – an Orderite woman and her feral khehora... daughter. A most peculiar pair – I had not realized that bonding could fail. It is well that it did – Honoka, the Khehora, is lively and inquisitive and I would hate to see such a mind enslaved to the bond.

I have been invited to dinner, and I think... perhaps... I should attend. I will ask Vona about it when she returns – apparently she and her friend had an outing as well. I look forward to being regaled with tales of frivolous fun. It makes a pleasant change from war stories, indeed.

[Honoka Portrait]

Unworthy of Paradise?
Capturing my Heart and
Paradise in a Song

The boat had finally left it's mooring, and the land of light slowly receded towards the horizon. Raemos watched it leave him, revealing as it did so the whole of its glory. The Olrawk's ethereal song echoed in his ears, and his wings fluttered with the residual joy that the very memory brought him. It was a bittersweet joy – twice, blessed twice, the Olrawk had come to grace him with its song. Twice it had left him, all alone, in the land of light. Seren's message, through this emissary, was clear: she appreciated him for what he was, but he was not worthy of her land, and not worthy of more than a fragment of her paradise, gleaned from a bird's song. Raemos had to be grateful for that much, and he was. But he wanted more, oh he wanted more, and that was why he did not deserve it. Paradise was not for the greedy, it was for the good, and for the children of light. Shadow would always cling to him, within and without, and so he was not worthy. He would never be worthy.

Even with these thoughts, he did not cry as they sailed further and further from the land he longed to protect. Seren had made things clear to him, and that was honor enough for a disgusting shadow like himself. Later, though, much later, as he tried to make some semblance of rest down in his bunk, the sadness hit him like a mallet and, though he did not cry, his dreams were filled with darkness and despair...

[Serenia, with the sun behind it, as seen from a boat]

The End of the Journey
Red, Vetertov, and Raemos

Raemos watched the events unfold with cool professionalism. Of course he could sympathize – he was no stranger to complicated family problems – but he was also watching to see if Vetertov would need to be benched or reassigned. That was, apparently, not the case. Despite being shouted at and insulted and left by his much beloved family member, Vetertov appeared to be doing well... in fact, he was a better soldier than before. Almost exemplary. However, Raemos's scrutiny did put a dampener in their relationship, and soon they no longer, even occasionally, shared a bed. This was fine with Raemos – his lovers were generally transient and temporary, and he made sure his impermanent intentions were well known. Frequently, the end of his sexual relationships involved a conflict of their professional lives and their private lives and, always, he put his life as a Guardian first. If professionalism got in the way of romance, it got in the way. So be it.

He recommended that Vetertov be promoted, and the Dovaa soon was, ending up in the coastal patrol. Occasionally, Raemos heard, Vetertov was hired as a mountain guide. Either way, the dovaa was doing well, and his wild sister was soon forgotten...

Until he had no choice but to remember.