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Character: Jijikko
Stage: Khehora
Luck: 10 (+10 LUK)
Creature: Firani Dragon x 10
Success Rate: 6 - 100

Win x 10: (30 x 10) = 300/2 = 150exp
Total: 150exp, levels to 23 with 10/23exp left over, +24 stat points to distribute, +10 firani dragon orbs

Word Count Required: 3,000 (Current: 3,025)
Final Word Count: -

When the first golden slivers of dawn crept into the shadowed crevice of Jijikko’s self-made cliffside sleeping nook, he grumbled low in his throat, more than a little displeased and entirely not ready, willing, or wanting to face whatever the day brought despite having no fair idea at this point, of course, what that might be. He didn’t want it. So, instead, he turned, shuffling his large body in a small, groggy semi-circle across the well packed and dusty, shallow ‘bowl’ of earth that he had made his sleeping nest for the previous night, twisting until his tail faced towards the rising sun and plucking at his magic. With it, he drug at the surrounding earth near the entrance to his personal nook, narrowing the entryway to it further still and cutting down on the offensive light flow into his sleeping space. Once satisfied and back in shadow, he nested, shuffling his weight to get comfortable again and keeping his eyes shut with a low, disgruntled purr of sound that rumbled deep in his long neck.

He ought to get up. He knew that much, and usually, he did get up with the sun, ready to greet the warm dawn and embrace the coming day with excitement and enthusiasm. Perhaps even a little more so than most were completely comfortable with, particularly at especially early hours — since many seemed disinclined to grapple with that time frame and did their best to avoid it as much as possible. For Jijikko, however, rising early with energy had never been a real issue. It came with ease, even; something he enjoyed and took pride in. But ever since his last hunt — his first hunt on the edges of the Terra Expanse with Amadia and her bonded oblivionite, Kilian — guilt had lurked under his scales, itching at him, deeper than anything he could physically scratch at. It grated at him and lingered despite all his best attempts to usher the feelings away.

No matter what Kilian said at the time in the aftermath of it all, the entire mess had been entirely his, Jiji’s, fault. He had been the one to dive in unprepared. The overenthusiastic, foolish and careless one. He had gotten himself nearly killed and, worse still, distracted Kilian’s attention enough to get him injured, too. Severely so. So much, things could have gone far worse, to the point where Jiji shuddered to think on it for long. He had always wanted to be a hero and do good, but in this instance, all he had done was endanger those helping him and nearly cost someone far more than anyone ought to pay. As a result, he owed the man his life, and had no means to pay him back.

Jijikko snorted, shifting his weight again and turning to peek one eye open at the narrow slit of incoming light. It spilled in a thin yellow stripe through the opening and onto the earth beside him. Warm. Taunting. Familiar. In its streak, he could see tiny dust particles dancing one around the other lackadaisically as though to say they were playing and enjoying the morning: what was he doing with his preciously limited hours of life?

He ought to get up. Much as it pained and embarrassed him to think on his failures, he knew that griping and pouting about it in silence helped nothing. If anything, it deterred him in the end, preventing him from using his time to the utmost and making the progresses that he could be so that next time such things would not happen as they had and he could actually be the khehora he wanted to be: brave, strong, protective, and fearless but wise enough to know when not to act so rashly it messed up everyone in his presence. What he needed to do was put his shame behind him, learn from his mistakes, and get back out into the world at large where he could be of use. Train harder than ever so that one day he would be strong enough to make himself a reliable and wanted ally, repay his debt to Kilian, and hold his head high with pride.

This in mind, his spirits lifted a bit, and he shifted again, pushing with his magic to open his ‘cave’ door more and standing. Stretching forward with a deep yawn, he clawed into the earthen cave floor, savoring the feel of his element rustling between his toes and talons before shaking his wings experimentally. His wounds from the kiandri fight were more or less completely healed now, which was promising. His belly, especially, felt better, and thankfully there had been no permanent damage to his wings other than a little scarring on the inner membrane tissue. Nothing that would hamper his fighting style or progression in his training.

With another quick yawn and a full body shake, Jijikko hopped out onto the far edge of his cliffside nook and leaned out his long neck. Eyes half-closed, wind in his face, sun on his scales. Yes, today was a new day. A fresh start. He would get past his failures and make the most of it. He’d show everyone he was legend worthy, and one day, perhaps even Kilian would be impressed with his strength.

He glanced down, eyeing the yawning cavern below. The previous night, he’d picked a spot high on a sheer cliff face and knocked a fresh hole in it with his magic, custom-made one-night nest for one. It kept him safe from any predators that might be foolish enough to take him on, and — as a nice bonus — provided a fantastic, sweeping view come morning: golden and red-brown desert stretched out before him far as the eye could see, riddled with canyons and jutting rock formations; the light of the new sun spilling like warm blood over the scene and painting it vibrant shades of red and orange. And an endless, open sky above, all open for the taking.

Giving the khehora equivalent of a broad grin, Jiji fanned out his wings, giving two minor test strokes before taking a single, powerful leaping dive off of the cliff face and out, out, up, up into wind. It rippled beneath his wings, warm, dry, and familiar, fresh with its own gusts but not so fierce as to make flight difficult — always a welcome feeling — and the view from high up was ever magnificent and empowering: to be above so much all at once, one could almost imagine they owned it all, surveying their land like a god over their kingdom, overlooking the comings and goings of more minor critters.

Once he caught a proper rhythm, though, he sank back, giving a twist of his body to face his previous-night’s nook and then drawing his hind paws in sharply to yank at his magic and clamp the earth back into the formation he had been before he found it. It felt wrong, somehow, in his mind, not to fix such things — an insult to the earth’s natural state — and replacing things to put them back how they belonged felt like picking up after himself, in a way.

Satisfied with his work once done, Jiji snorted happily and took off in to the open skies to explore the surrounding area.

He swept into a low dip and flew close to the earth, comparatively speaking, skimming over the earth as it whizzed by beneath him and watching his shadow ripple over it all like a separate dark being chasing in his path. He did this primarily because he felt more at ease on some level, the lower angle putting him closer to his natural element, but also because, in his opinion, the view was even better than the more lordly one of high up. It came with a whole slew of more visible details, and was easier to dart down and explore on a whim, and so on. To some extent, he suppose it lost him the element of surprise in certain cases, or at least dampened the chances of attaining it, but that he could deal with and he figured personally that the benefits more than outweighed the costs. Several hours later, after a smaller-than-he-would-have-liked breakfast and the sun well on its way to high noon, Jijikko was just starting to consider earning himself a second breakfast or pre-lunch snack when the smell of something distinctly not prey reached his nostrils.

His snout twitched, drawing in a deep, seeking breath. Details, details, details: what was it?

Immediately curious, Jijikko slowed his flight pace, feral golden eyes sweeping the landscape in search of the source. Much to his pleasure, it did not take long too spot. A single, dark dot, grounded — despite looking like a feral khehora perfectly capable of flight — deep at the base of a strange, gapping rock gully. As he swooped down and drew in closer, Jiji was surprised he hadn’t noticed the oddity in the rock formation from afar. Upon inspection, it was definitely not natural. Hand carved or, perhaps, the work of gaili magic, but Magescian-made, without a doubt. Intricate and built of too many straight lines, sharp angles, and complex architecture to be anything put together by the shaping hands of wind and time alone. He sniffed the breeze again as he closed in, attention torn between the strange new company and the fascinating rock structure.

Great, impressively sculpted pillars jutted out of the earth and a single, massive door that looked like the entrance to a half-buried castle sat wedged in the valley between two cliff faces. The little khehora — very little, was it natural for any to come that small? — didn’t seem to notice Jiji’s approach as he descended, but he supposed that wasn’t entirely surprising, since the wind was strongly in his face, blowing his scent far away in the opposite direction. No matter. His company would know of his arrival soon enough. Grinning impishly, he swept forward to do just that, making a last sharp dip as he closed in on the last stretches of space separating the two of them, fanning out his wings, talons first, and—

With an enthusiastic CRUNCH, Jijikko came to a rough, pounded landing a mere three feet or so from his fellow khehora, the earth quaking outwards in a cracked ripple around him thanks to a small pulse from his magic, giving a crater effect at his feet. Purposeful, though he’d never admit it, since he wanted to make sure he made a powerful first impression on any new face.

“Greetings, fellow adventurer!” he said, leaning in immediately closer towards the stranger and sniffing curiously, heedless of its initial reaction to his presence. Er, his reaction. His. Definitely a he Jiji thought, making a mental note as he studied the other’s scent. There was a whole wide array of scents there, many familiar — foods he had eaten recently, the smell of dust and sand — others less familiar — like the particular scent of this khehora’s sweat and scales and precise brand of magic, as well as a great many other, more faded smells that Jijikko could not even begin to precisely pinpoint. He trilled, thoroughly curious, and wondered where the little ayrala could have come from to sport such a vast slew of new and foreign smells. Jijikko tended to consider himself a connoisseur of sorts when it came to such things and it was unusual that quite so much would be wholly unfamiliar to him. No matter; that was what questions were for, and it made the find of a stranger all the more interesting going forward. “You smell like the west wind and a bouken breakfast,” he deduced at length, still overwhelmingly chipper and doing nothing to put more space between the two of them. “Do you know much about these ruins?”

Jijikko blinked, startled at the other’s chilly — or at the very best ‘lukewarm’ — response to his arrival. Optimistically speaking, the little ayrala seemed unimpressed with his antics, enthusiastic greeting and all, and Jijikko ruffled out his wings, miffed. Usually, even if they weren’t all as receptive as others, strangers were at least decently warm with him and showed some signs of returning his natural positivity. What was it that made this little one so uninterested in him? Did he smell bad? Had he startled him? Offended some unknown foreign culture of his? Was something stuck between his teeth? Trilling curiously beneath his breath, Jijikko trotted after the other as he retreated, insatiably curious now. Maybe, he reasoned privately, if he just spent enough time with him, the other would come around, attitude wise and see that he meant the best and could be a valuable aid. He would prove he was worthwhile company, yes, and keep the smaller one safe from harm — which he probably needed, given his slight and nimble little frame and stature.

Then surely he would be more welcoming. In spite of himself, Jijikko thus took the rebuttal as a private challenge to prove himself, and was all the more dedicated in trailing his new found ayrala ‘companion’.

“I’m also native to here,” he said, half hopeful that starting up a conversation would encourage the other into liking him more. Maybe they could bond over desert experiences? Though, frankly, he would rather just find something especially large and new and exciting inside the ruins themselves. Practice to further his training and a chance to show off for the ayrala. What better combination could he hope for? “I’m Jijikko, by the way. What breed of khehora are you? You don’t look to be from around here, but maybe you were hatched in a different nesting area than I’m used to? The Terra Expanse, maybe? You must have a very exotic lineage…”

Jijikko sniffed the air as he talked, tail swishing behind him as his claws tapped at the floor of the interior. Definitely built by skilled labor. Magescian, most likely, though he wouldn’t have put it past a set of highly talented gaili khehora. Was it once a fortress, perhaps? A protected area, hidden away during the era of war? Or an old castle for a noble family of great wealth? Perhaps there were riches inside! His scales rippled in mild excitement at the thought, his curiosity peaked, and he wondered how deep into the earth the passageways went, as well as how long they’d been around. With this level of architecture, it could have been around for centuries, and certainly seemed long-untouched.

“Karrian.” Jijikko lifted his snout, sniffing the room and observing the interesting juxtaposition of the very, very old — dust, brick, mortar, and bones or whatever might remain of what once lingered here — and the newer, more sharply distinct scent of his companion, who’d just filled the space with it thanks to his wind tunnel. He enjoyed both, he decided, and his companion’s name. So he said as much. “I like it. It sounds a bit like one of the names dragon two-leggers use. Karayan. Karion. Kareon…” He eyed the swish of the other’s tail and shape of his flanks before returning his focus to the earth and sniffing. “Did your mother name you? Or—”

He paused, freezing mid-motion at a new scent. Cooler. Deeper. Older still. Entirely distracted from his line of thought, Jiji tapped his tail to the earth, sending out a minor pulse of magic out and down in a bubbled sphere in all directions, like a weak seismic wave to judge the shape and format of the earth beneath his talons. Sure enough, he found not a solid base as with most of the world, but a yawning cavity beneath. Like a secret store room. Or a hideaway for buried treasure.

Getting too far ahead of himself as per character, Jiji chirruped happily, bounding around the room and sending pulses of magic out as he went, trying to pinpoint the desired opening. All but immediately, though, he lost patience for finding a ‘proper’ method, and, instead of respecting the structure’s intended design, architecture, or even doing so much as giving his companion a spot of warning, he spread his wings and stomped. With a single jolt and shove of magic, the ground caved almost of its own accord, his spellwork starting a chain reaction by effectively ripping at the thinnest patch of the room’s flooring that he could find like thin paper and sending the edges crumbling — loudly — inward and down like a poorly mediated earthquake.

As the process began to take care of itself, Jiji scrambled back, stumbling in an effort to back up and then billowing his wings to catch himself and flit to a safer spot of ground. Dust mushroomed up, filling the room like a screen of smog as the rumblings and thunk, tap, tap, taps of various rocks and pebbles slowly died out. Finally, when all was quiet again, Jijikko sneezed and beat his wings, attempting with only limited effectiveness to clear the air.

“Well,” he stated, grinning — though that could likely not be seen through the grit, “I found another roo—”

Clack.

Clack.

Clack.

Jijikko stilled. His nostrils flared and his muscles bunched, wary and alert. Before the source of the sound — talons on marble or sharp rock — even began to identify itself, he knew the sort of unexpected company he’d invited by breaking open the lower level. The scent of a dragon was unmistakable.

“Er, Karrian…” He shifted his weight, flitting his wings uneasily as he took a step back. “I think—”

An echoing roar, followed all but simultaneously by a pillar of fire, interrupted whatever might have become of that sentence.