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Your eyes linger on the swarm, watching, debating, considering your options. The likelihood that you encounter the swarm is greater than the likelihood you avoid it. Ash provided an unexpected boon and you decide you shouldn't squander it. Turning to the side, you bark orders at the gawking kobolds.

"Wake the crew and begin preparing the starboard arc cannons. Do not arm them until I give word. Those not involved in the preparation are to be on deck. I desire at least twenty more kin ready for battle." A handful of the smaller beings nod and dash off shouting orders to rouse the sleeping crew. Ramah's look is not encouraging.

"You doubt the crew's ability to defend the ship?" Your words catch the golden scaled male off guard.

"No sir. They are well trained it's just... well, most of them have not seen real combat." You nod in contemplation. "I worry for them."

"As any good teacher would of their students; and this is no paltry fight either. But they have one advantage you have not taken into account." You notice his puzzled look, but you simply move, stepping toward the quarterdeck with no further explanation, adding; "Come." As you step away. "And you as well Ash. I will need both of your assistance for what is to come."

You can feel a moment of hesitation as they look at one another. You can't fault them after what happened to Issra but that isn't the sort of task you have in store for the young warriors. The ship is a mess of activity, your navigator soon bounding up the steps toward the helm still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Sir?" She inquires. The two males turn toward her direction though your form remains unmoved, sitting with your claws working an intricate spell circle into the air before you. The black void hovers seamlessly in the air, a strange thing to behold for any unused to the practice.

"We are soon to be besieged by a voracious pack of mana worms." You speak without direction but Ramah nods his head toward the faint glow upon the horizon. Having moved out of the direct background of the moons, they're easier to notice against the darkened backdrop. "Their sheer numbers could pose a threat to the spell that keeps us above the storm. However, drawing mana from the hardened magewood will be slow and difficult, much simpler to simply leach off the spongy life force of the crew that inhabits it first." Your eyes shift focus from the runes to the three before you.

"Zula, you must navigate the ship as best you can to keep the swarm off balance. If they are all allowed to dive the ship at once we will be overrun before we can thin their numbers. As for you two-" You speak while your claws move apart, drawing two identical copies of the spell circle out away from central core; one before the red and one before the gold. Your claws swing up to complete the single spells, lighting them with a startling glow. "-you must protect me while I protect the ship. I will be blind to my own danger while the core spell is active.

"Physical weapons will do little more than slow the creatures down. Within these circles is a weapon bound to you." You continue, directing them to reach inside and take hold of their fate- and yours in a way. The unsettled look Zula gives at watching their arms just disappear is not unwarranted though the effect is only momentary.

Upon retrieving their spirit weapons, to Ramah, a spear and shield is drawn, gloriously intricate and radiating with a luminescent aura befitting the lively warrior. To Ash, a pair of curved blades are retrieved, each as long as his arm with cupping hand guards and a studded pommel. The little red's excitement is amusing as he holds them wide eyed, swinging them a few times to feel their curious weight.

"But you must be cautious with them." You chastise the energetic kobold with firm words, tempering his amazement. "Fore as well as they can harm ethereal beings, should you cross blades with another and shatter either, the soul it belongs to will be forever broken." Ash's ears pin against the side of his head, looking at the blades with a new respect. "And no, your soulblades cannot harm one other." You add with a bit of amusement, answering the unspoken question and watching both warriors relax some.

With only the center rune remaining, you continue it, working far more intricacy into this circle than the previous two. Your eyes shift from your work for a moment, judging the distance of the swarm. They are little more than animals drawn to mana like a moth to flame but that doesn't make what must be done easier.

"Arm the cannons." Your words are simple but Ramah nods without hesitation and zips off to the lower deck. "Zula." You call to your navigator, her purple feathers blowing in the wind. "I leave it up to you to decide when to fire. We will only get one good volley before they scatter. Make it count." You rumble, every bit confident in her ability to direct the ship.

"Minni'sjalfur!" You bellow over the swarm of activity, calling your cabal to attention. "We will not win this fight as we are now: they are too many and we are too few. To survive the night you must trust in me, you must believe in your betri'vera. Do you trust me?"

The cry about the ship is lack luster. There is no descent amongst it and, while the lack of sleep, the cold of the deck or even the danger of the situation might cause the lack of enthusiasm, it is not enough that they simply say 'yes'. You step forward and roar with teeth bared in a way rarely seen by your tribe.

"DO you BELIEVE in ME?!" The _Yes!_that follows is far more energized. "Would you submit yourself to me, bind yourself to me; even give your life to me?" No mortal race seeks death but they all yearn for something beyond their meager existence, something greater then themselves. You are that thing to these kobolds and they are not wrong in their belief. While they can say whatever they desire out loud, it is what you feel within the crew that matters- like sampling a heat map of willingness that decides your next action. "Then take your weapon and defend the ship."

Your eyes wash over with a mystical glow as your claw flexes, grabbing the spell circle at four points and thrusting through it while distorting its form entirely. The shape distends into a dome that clamps around your arm like a gauntlet of radiant runes. From your outstretched paw leaps dozens of mini comets that open portals before each of your amazed cabal nearly identical to the ones Ramah and Ash used earlier. The only difference being that these are linked to you in an intimate fashion.

It takes the bravest of your kin to reach in and retrieve their soulblade before more and more follow suit. Each one flashes with realization that they are no longer alone in their body, their eyes also awash with that magical iridescence as you enter them. It doesn't take long before you have an entire army suited for battle.

"You you are my children and I will protect you. You were trained for this, you will fight with your soul bared and I shall see you through it. Resist me-" You make an example of what can happen by having one of the kin charge in and suddenly attack another while telling the other to remain motionless. As expected, fear takes over and, while you gently coax the recipient to stay, you don't force him, letting him break the bond to try to defend himself with his blade. However, the moment he lets go, the blade evaporates just as he swings it up to try and block, leaving him defenseless against the charging kobold's mercy.

"-and you will be on your own." The offending spiritual sword stops a feather's width away from the cringing male. "You must trust me. Submit yourself to me and I will see us through this." You say calmly, sending a new portal out before the stricken drake.

You chose this young male on purpose; the largest point of hesitation within the crowd. At only 16 and half his life spent on a ship away from your side, it is little wonder. But his hesitant eyes look into yours as you stand there like a regal beacon. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, then reaches into the portal once more, giving himself to you.

"I do not control you, I guide you; as I have always done. Follow my lead and let your training speak for itself."

Ramah's return from the lower decks is timely, spear and shield in hand.

"Cannons are armed sir, awaiting your command." He bows slightly. You nod in return.

"I know, the swarm is already on its way." You jerk your snout toward the swirling mass of floating creatures. They seem much more agitated now. "And it is not my command you will wait for." You add, your head tilting down toward the female kobold. Ramah looks confused for a moment but the tension is interrupted as Ash sneaks up behind to give the uncertain female a surprise hug. Her squeak of embarrassment makes you rumble in amusement.

"What? You looked like you could use a little pick-me-up." He smirks while lifting her off the deck a toe's height.

"Ash! Put me down this instant you little rat!" She huffs, slapping his flank with her tail. These little creatures were always so full of surprises. But he does as she asks and quickly skitters away from the glowering female to your side once more.

"Hey hey, I got a spirit blade now!" The little red comments, brandishing the glowing object in playful defense at the irritated doe.

"And I have a fist for your face." She growled, shaking it menacingly.

"It would be a shame to bloody such a beautiful paw." He swooned playfully, not meaning it to be her own blood in that scenario.

"Oooouh! Athsar, can you make him jump off the boat?!" She exhales in a huff.

"Ash is not linked to the spell and, even then, I could only suggest he fling himself from the bow at your behest." You thrum. The young red's tail swishes as he grins toothily in victory. Your other paw reaches out and pinches his tail gently between your clawtips. "Though I could just fling him overboard myself if need be."

The red drake's ears instantly flatten and he shrinks a little at your words, glancing back at you sheepishly. The swirl of magical energy that covers your eyes obscures his view of you somewhat but he seems to have learned his lesson to behave, so you release his tail. He clears his throat and returns to attention.

"The swarm is nearly upon us. You all know what to do."

A hoard of ghostly snakes glow through their transparent skin, their innards a simple structure not crafted of biology. Designed only to consume and multiply, they consist mainly of a mouth with four hook like teeth to latch on to tangible objects and a sucker to siphon essence with. No stomach or excretion area, they consume mana as quickly as they can and grow in length until their bodies simply divide. Once they reach about the length a kobold is high, they separate into two new voracious carnivores.

Given another few days of unsuccessfully chasing the storm, the swarm would have likely begun feeding on itself. No such luck for you but you still have a nasty surprise for them with the eight armed cannons waiting patiently for your navigator's order. The only thing left for you to do is decide how to proceed.

With the cabal under your sway, you can manage them into an amazingly effective fighting force the likes of which any battlefield commander would give an entire legion to have. Pushing them to be more offensive will help prevent the fight from dragging out too long. Many of them are not fully rested as is and the faster you can deal with this menace the better. Alternatively, you could opt for a more defensive strategy, attack when opportune and have them assist one another more rather than looking for openings to strike. A good option to minimize casualties but, if the battle drags on too long, that ratio could quickly turn on its head.

You also can't help but wonder what Zula will do. She could fire early to maximize the spread and hit as many as possible or wait until the swarm is right upon you to fire into its core. Risky but potentially even more lethal. Already with you vision split amongst several dozen minds, you cannot make that judgment call.

(#11) [Vote ends: 3/28 @ 8pm PT or 75% votecount] You think Zula will...

... fire early while you play defensively.

... fire early while you attack aggressively.

... fire late while you play defensively.

... fire late while you attack aggressively.

---

You align the kobold army in groups of three to cover the ship to its fullest extent. You can feel their fear and know it is not unwarranted. You estimate there are at least a few thousand of the beasts to deal with. You also know Zula has a tendency to be conservative when it comes to taking risks but you hope the first strike will be enough to hand a deadly blow to the swarm. The sound of their gelatinous bodies rubbing against one another as they near the ship is eerie even to your trained ears.

Your navigator holds her course as the torrent of bodies closes in, waiting until the last moment to fling the ship into a hard portly heel. To the animal-like worms, the ship is little more than prey that seems to be trying to flee its fate. But the act is not one of cowardice. The sudden shift in direction causes the vessel to list in a way that brings its eight cannons to bear on the swarm's flank as it stretches out beside the ship to try and match your trajectory. It's only seconds before you hear the command, but they are long arduous seconds indeed.

"FIRE THE CANNONS!" She cries, the order relayed by a deckhand as he ducks beneath the deck.

Not a moment later the percussion of cannon fire overpowers all else. While the projectiles that escape from the barrels are small black orbs, they are not cannonballs. Far from it; the void spheres far more devastating, capable of doing incomprehensible damage to even these creatures. Fired too soon and they could miss hitting anything noteworthy, fired too late and their eruption could envelop part of the ship as well. Zula's choice of timing insured a hit without risk of friendly fire just as you anticipated.

Eight spheres are fired, seven make contact. The instant they impact an object, they expand outward creating a perfect black sphere of void energy twenty times the diameter of the bowling ball sized projectile it came from. Most of the creatures affected are simply gone, but those unfortunate enough to be caught on both sides of the event horizon are simply eviscerated into halves, bits and pieces of mana worm raining from the sky as the devastating attack hits its mark.

Like frightened fish, the ethereal creatures scatter from the attack. As impressive as it looked, the attack was less effective than you would've hoped. While hundreds certainly perished in that one blow, there are still over a thousand left to deal with. However, your navigator still has one more trick up her sleeve, heaving the boat toward the swarm as it scattered, splitting it into two as you dive headfirst into the fray of voracious bodies.

The black and blue kobold has given you as much of an advantage she can manage, the rest is up to you. With your crew aligned in a defensive posture, all you can do is wait. You don't have to wait long however as the creatures begin overflowing across the bow right into your blades. At first you don't even need to swing, the innumerable masses packed tightly enough together that all you have to do is jump from mind to mind ensuring soul blades don't clash. A hundred more are felled this way before the first of your kin are struck.

The gaping, gangly mouths do little more than scratch at the scales of your minni'sjalfur but that doesn't stop them from latching on wherever they can to sap away the strength of your fighters. Luckily having them in groups of three makes it easy for you to defend with one and assist with another. The starving monstrosities don't stop though, no matter how many you slice off, there are always a dozen more that need to be dealt with.

From your perspective, you can see the entire battlefield, your mind bouncing from one kobold to another like a ghostly guiding hand setting the kin into motion before moving to the next and the next. It takes you but a fraction of a second for each action, your paw uplifted, claws outstretched. Your talons twitch ever so slightly as you feel their pain, forced to ignore it for the greater good. Those not entranced in your spell can only watch in awe at the perfectly choreographed fight that seems to be taking place on the decks below.

However, there are no eyes to spare as even the trio on the quarterdeck with you must focus on their tasks. Your two most capable warriors are here beside you, their glowing blades cutting through the air in furious assault at the beasts that attempt to do you harm. Ramah's spear simply plucks the serpents out of the sky as they near you while the crimson Ash's fluid motions duck and weave around your motionless form, bisecting the ethereal creatures with eloquent strikes.

"13... 14... Ah... 15!" He cries gleefully, announcing his kill count with each fresh blow. Ramah does not indulge the younger kobold.

There is little Zula can do to aid the fight, but she's found rocking the boat from side to side to be an effective strategy, the large sails helping scatter the thicker blobs of the swarm to keep them from all being a nuisance at once.

But a minute into the battle and you are already worried. The quick precise strikes you are able to coordinate are already beginning to wane. It is not the crew's fault; with any normal opponent they could hold their own for far longer but every strike the creatures land saps just a little of their stamina. Another two minutes of this brutal onslaught and you feel the first kin slip away from your control, his fear and pain causing him to resist. The weapon it had wielded fades into thin air as he attempts to flee. You do your best to offer some defense, but you can't risk breaking the formations to defend him.

Instead the two left behind quickly separate and melt into another two other groups, strengthening them as best you can. By the fifth minute of the battle, you've lost control of at least that many. It's impossible to tell for sure but you suspect at least half the swarm has been dealt with. The battle is not going in your favor.

"CANNONS ARE READY MA'AM." The bellow of the deckhand is surprising to both you and your navigator, the brave soul stepping out from below deck, even defenseless as he is, to provide the only assistance he can.

You had not intended a second volley. With the swarm now upon you, there is no way you could safely fire them without risking massive collateral damage. But Zula is just as aware of the battlefield's state as you are and devises an ingenious action to take advantage of this unexpected opportunity.

"Hang on!" She yells, throwing the ship into a hard turn.

The entire vessel keels sharply. The twenty degree turn becomes forty and fifty and sixty... You are forced to bounce from mind to mind as fast as possible with the sole goal of shoring your cabal against sliding right off the deck. On the open ocean, such a maneuver would never have had the effect she was intending; but here, riding the clouds, the tight maneuver gives the ship the speed it needs to force the swarm to drag behind you like a wake of voracious horror. The creatures follow you like a flock of birds, no mind of their own even as you catch up with the tail-end.

"FIRE!" The black and blue kobold screams, the poor thing struggling to keep herself upright against the forces of her own maneuver.

Only four of the cannons ring out with their catastrophic payload, the rest of the crew having lost her footing. But it is enough. The densely packed tail is easily picked off as lightless obsidian voids consume hundreds more. The crackling screech of their deaths terrorizes the wind for only a moment before the grotesque grating of their ethereal forms returns.

Returning the ship to a stable angle takes effort from your tiny navigator and worse, you're now against the wind, slower than where you started. Only a quarter of the swarm remains but what remains slams into the ship to frightening effect. And worse still, your defensive posture is in tatters with your cabal clumped against one side of the ship.

"Ramah!" You hear Zula's plea, and so do your defenders, the two turning in time to see the unprotected female being swarmed by three of the ruthless beings. Dashing to her aid, the gold scaled drake throws his spear, driving two of them into the mast and bashing the last with his shield of light.

Your vision fades.

"The spell runes." You growl, snout tilting down toward your outstretched arm. You are blind to see it but you know there is a worm there. Realizing their mistake, Ash turns to find not one but two attackers latched onto the arm with a third on its way. "I cannot see!" You exclaim. The battlefield is chaos, your cabal expecting your guidance and divulging into uncoordinated flailing without it.

The red kobold is afraid to strike your spell with his soul blade but, by the time the two were dispatched, two more found their way to his betri'vera with even more coming. With his spear knocked to the ground, it takes precious moments for Ramah to return to your side so the small kobold does the only thing he can think of to protect you.

You can feel his weight on your arm as he wraps himself around you, using his own body to keep the spell safe. It takes but a moment for your sight to return but by then there are three more of the vile leaches attached to his wreathing form. You are not linked to him the way you are to the rest of the crew but you can feel his pain in the way his body spasms just the same.

Your claws clench, digging into your own flesh enough to draw blood. The white runes run crimson as your very essence leaks into the spell. The opalescent sheen upon your eyes washes red as lines of fiery fury flow across your wing claws and down your spine, coating your bones than a hellish glow. Your snout wrinkles in a vicious snarl as you feel the weight of your defender fall to the deck with a thud. Ramah's feet carry him back to your side as fast as they can but he is stopped short as your jaw spreads wide, discharging a roaring gout of blue dragon flame over the fallen male, consuming him entirely in its radiance.

You suppose vengefulness is something you have yet to grow out of for it would be a lie to say hearing the worms' screeches of pain did not satisfy you in some primal way while you burn away their very existence. Both Ramah and Zula shield their eyes from the intense display but, upon returning their gaze to the scene, they would see the red drake smoldering and naked but otherwise seemingly unharmed. Their fear of you is also not unjustified, your appearance hellish as you leap out onto the main deck, enchanted claws rending the creatures on the way down.

Wings flared and mouth agape, you unleash your fury upon the remaining parasites, galvanizing dozens with dragon flame. It is extraordinarily dangerous for you to bear a soul weapon, especially amidst all of these kobolds with their own but to do nothing would mean the end of most of your crew. You are still connected to all those who have remained faithful and, with that intimate connection, you join the fray. Your presence alone gives smaller creatures hope as they dig into whatever reserves they have left and follow your every command to the very best there exhausted little bodies can muster.

Your wings slice through the air, severing tops from bottoms before twisting into a vertical position and slamming the tips down into the deck. Simultaneously three of your crew step in line, a scant toe-length away from the devastating strike but positioned in such a way that you rake several aggressors off their bodies in one fell swoop. A cluster of the little wretches fall victim to the overwhelming power of a snap from your bone-bladed tail spade as it cuts through them like butter. A third bellow of flame over the port side sends a shower of burning corpses to the sea below.

The entirety of the battle does not last more than a half hour but, by the time the last blow is struck, it feels like hours have passed. What remains of the cluster has scattered; with no swarm left to follow, the stragglers disperse to chase easier prey. It isn't until some of the sub crew peek up to find out what the lack of commotion is all about that you realize you're still maintaining the spell. There are hollers and whistles of victory even as you pull the runes off your gauntlet, unwinding the spell and letting it dissipate.

The glowing weapons and glowing eyes fade, letting your crew relax for the first time since the battle began. Their celebration is not unwarranted, victory was not assured but you prevailed all the same. You lift your paw, observing it with clear eyes as the blood bonds retract from across your body and retreats back into the small punctures you made. The wounds seal themselves as the last of the magic recedes.

Your short trip back to the navigation deck is met with good fortune as you see Ramah helping his companion sit up, the young red groaning as he holds his forehead gingerly.

"Oww... What happened? I feel like I got kicked in the head by a horse while being run over by a wagon..." He groaned, Zula chuckling she knelt by his side.

"Well you got attacked by a swarm of essence sucking worms, passed out bent over Athsar's arm, had your clothes burnt off in dragon flame aaaaand probably saved the ship." The range of emotions that passed over Ash's face made Zula smirk, enjoying her playful revenge as the young male crossed his legs in realization.

"You did well indeed Ash, I could not have asked for more from you." You add an agreement to your navigator's assessment. You would be hard-pressed to notice if his red scales were in fact blushing, but you can feel the emotion radiating from him all the same. "And you as well Zula." You bob your head in appreciation.

"Ahh... hehe..." The crimson scaled male coughs and embarrassment. "Thirty-three." He adds, looking up at Ramah expectantly. The gold drake makes a face with a raised eye ridge. The older male doesn't say anything at first, just extending an arm, helping lift his counterpart up onto his two feet.

"Thirty-one." He answers reluctantly, immediately regretting it as he sees the broad smug grin grow over Ash's face.

The battle was won, but not without a cost. Six of the crew died that night with eight more injured severely enough to be removed from active duty. Those injured would make a full recovery but those who did not would need a ceremony to follow them. The cost of the spell had not been great and while meditating to recover was never a bad idea, the amount of misfortune that had been befalling your crew warrants your continued attention. You expect you're nearing your goal and vigilance could mean the difference between success and failure.

However the six bodies that rest upon the deck are your first priority. As you sit among the semicircle of lifeless kobolds, you wonder how best to console the friends and family that gather behind you. Every soul that is born exists because of you and every soul that was extinguished is because of you. Their lives are short, they only know fragments of their past, it's in pieces passed down generation after generation but you know all of it from the very birth of their species to this very day where they stand by your side and, perhaps, you will know them to the very last day that their kind draws breath.

You know you don't owe them anything but you could reinforce their faith by telling them more of their past. Instead, perhaps it is time they learned why they are here in the first place; after all they have followed you unquestioningly beyond the edge of the known world without even knowing the reason. Perhaps all of that would not do the sacrifices they have made justice. Instead, you could tell them of the future you have in mind for their kind should your journey end in success.

You think all three options would be befitting in honoring those that have given their lives for their kin and keeper.

(#12) [Vote ends: 4/3 @ 6pm PT or 75% votecount] You decide to include...

... some of the kobold's history in the ceremony.

... details about their current goal in the ceremony.

... plans for the future of kobold kind in the ceremony.

---

Having your cabal gathered behind you as you loom over the lifeless bodies of their kin is becoming more of a habit than you would prefer. You knew this journey would not be simple and had even calculated loss into the equation but that doesn't make their passing any better. This would be the third time you've called your flame to bear the lost into the great beyond.

A roll of your blue dragonfire curls into your open paw, gathering as the wave of emotion that rolls through your crew is surprisingly calm as the morning. Not all of the crew are here, those too injured or too exhausted to join have stayed below. But many of the families have joined their kin in the time of mourning. The flame flickers in your paw as the wind blows across the deck. One paw breaks away from the other, a bit of the glowing orb separating into a smaller core that you cradle, delicately depositing it on the first's chest.

The still form is slowly consumed by the flame as you repeat the action again, and a third time; a small tinder left on each and allowed to burn in silence. When there is nothing left to consume, only the flame remains, hovering with white energy. You can hear the soft sniffles and sobs behind you as your kin pay their last respects. Your outstretched paw gathers the six soulflames as you turn toward the crowd and, when you feel the time is right, you exhale smoothly over just the white flames.

Their ethereal forms flicker, elongating as the tips crystallize and disintegrate into a million sparkling fragments carried into the wind. The twinkle is mesmerizing, a last memento to their crewmates as their physical forms leave one last mark of beauty in the minds of their kin. Then they are gone, your crimson eyes watching the crowd, letting them grieve. However distraught they may be, when you speak, they listen.

"The journey these minni'sjalfur have tread is now over. But ours is not. The path I have laid out before you is hard. It has always been hard, and yet, for over two-thousands years, kobold kind has always endured it without fail." You pause, looking across the field of small bodies. "When I called, the first of your kind left the safety of your caves to find me. When I showed you the power of reason, you struggled through, determined to comprehend. When the great kobold city of Lacqulemor fell, you survived despite all odds. And now, here, with me, you ride a ship above the clouds, battling sea monsters, starvation and plagues of ethereal beings.

"What I ask of you is no trivial sacrifice. Many of you could be living in relative comfort within your own dens, raising a family of your own design and walking a path of your own making. Instead you have chosen to endure the difficult path I have laid before you, to help your betri'vera achieve what no other before us has." Your regal posture remains resolute. "However, success is not guaranteed. We have weathered the hardships by the strength and dedication of those who came before you. What we do here determines our fate and, if we are to succeed, the crew must be strong enough to weather whatever storms we face in the future." Your long, dark neck turns back, observing the six now-empty resting spots before you continue.

"The path I ask of you is dangerous and difficult, but you are strong. Stronger than you know. Thus, even knowing the ultimate price some of you may pay, would you step forward to take up the mantle left behind by those departed?" You speak to no one in particular, your eyes scanning the area without lingering on any individual.

There is a rise and fall of mixed emotions amongst your cabal, like cauldron bubbling to life. It would not surprise you if none stepped forward, so soon reminded of the risk and what it had cost those who had volunteered their before. What did surprise you was the first to slip through the crowd, a young female of not even yet of fifteen years. Her blue green eyes and dark blond scales unremarkable by kobold standards but her spirit was bright and determined. She was filled with life and so ready to sacrifice that life for you if necessary.

Your blood red eyes wash over her, peering deep into the young one. Despite your commanding presence, she stands her ground. It is not a lack of fear; she knows well your strength and has no illusion that you could simply end her with little more than a flick of your tail. Rather, it is the force of conviction that allows her endure you. And, with that display to virtue to her kin, more and more emerge from the crowd, strengthened by one another in a way you have come to envy. There are over a dozen that step forward, offering themselves to your service.

You know their names, you know their father's names, their mother's, their grandparent's, their kin and history like weaving branches of a great wyvernroot tree. With both paws you manipulate the core flame from the ceremony, crushing it into a small ball and then dispersing it outward toward the gathering. The deck rains with several dozen droplets of blue fire that drift to the deck and begin growing in size like great candle flames.

"Within lives the essence of every kobold that has ever faithfully served me." The flames continue to grow in size until they are the height of a kobold and, from there, begin to take shape. "So long as I live, you cannot truly die." The fiery bodies begin to take the form of recognizable shapes and you can hear the gasps of realization as some of the kin begin recognizing the faces; deceased lovers and children, parents and friends now stood amongst the living. "But you reside only within me. Walking only with me." The still images of their lost kin remain unmoving, out of reach by the heat of the flame.

"If we are successful, if our journey ends in victory, then you may be the first minni'sjalfur to walk with your kin as I have for ages past." You rumble, waving your paw as the statuesque flames soften and come to life.

If the earlier state of emotions had been a cauldron of change, this was a tumultuous melting pot of fervor now. With the elemental kobolds coming to life, they began hopping forward and embracing friends and family alike, their immolating heat now cooled. They were only a simulacrum created and controlled by you, yet infused with the memory of those whose bodies you chose to represent; a lie of sorts perhaps, but this was only a demonstration of your intent.

While those of the living laughed and cried and attempted to speak to their unliving counterparts, the flame spirits remained silent, unable to reciprocate. You let them indulge for a time, but not so long as to linger.

"I wish to rebuild Lacqulemor in honor of my most stubborn, and faithful, of followers." You bob your head in acknowledgement of the crowd of kobolds. "To build you a future where life is yours to follow and death is not an end; simply another step to your journey." With your plans revealed, you close your fist, the firebolds dissipating from the bottom up, inevitably churning the cauldron of emotion one last time. "You few brave enough to walk this hard path do so with the future of your kind in your hands-" You speak, turning about to face the bow as the sun crests the horizon. "-and know that it is bright." You purr, watching solemnly.

The crowd disperses of their own volition while you simply sit, enjoying the warmth upon your body as your tail wraps around your sitting limbs. Vetting and training of the new potential recruits is delegated to the officers leaving you time to brood upon your own thoughts. Part of you thinks to retreat back to your den, but you brush it off. You are close, you can feel it and the anticipation is difficult to ignore. In a day or two, the ship will be fully beyond the storm and you will be able to dock the ship to the sea again. But, for now, you can simply enjoy the wind in your wings once more.

You don't remember stretching them out, but doing so feels unusually good with the air pressing the thin membrane between cold layers of rushing atmosphere. You feel a little silly doing it but it has been some time since you last flew and who would judge you for indulging?

It is nearly noon before a commotion catches your attention. Having curled up on the dragondeck, your angular snout lifts, ears perking. A crowd of four or five of your crew having gathered near the forecastle, ogling at something out beyond the bow. Your sharp eyes narrow in on them, then look up toward what they're pointing at. It's a creature of some kind.

Immediately your body is alert, two heads from the crowd looking back, ready to report their findings to you only to find their dragon already on his feet and moving toward them. You take up position flanking the small collection of two legged reptilians and follow the skybound beast. It's alone and does not appear to be of particular threat at first glance.

"What is it?" One quietly remarks to another. The question is not directly poised at you but you answer it anyway.

"A gryphon."

They look at one another, then at you and finally back up to the sky, once more amazed at their betri'vera's abilities. It is likely a gryphon anyway. The flight strokes are too wide to be a smaller animal and it has four limbs rather than two. Not a dragon by any means, maybe a hippogriff but it doesn't strike you as quite the right structure for that.

Regardless of the final verdict, the what is less interesting to you than the how. Getting this far up for a beast of that size would be a damn impressive feat and they aren't typically sea-fairing animals so getting out this far meant one of two things; some sort of arcane accident, or there was land nearby...

This provides an unexpected opportunity and there would be a variety of ways to take advantage of it. You can try to follow the creature and see if it makes berth somewhere but that presents a bit of risk should it slip into any thick cloud cover. Or you could come upon the beast and harpoon it; your crew could use the additional rations and you should still be able to divine some information as to its recent whereabouts all the same. Alternatively, you could attempt to get your beastmaster close enough to draw it in instead. Livestock is rare enough and you could save the animal for more a more dire need. This presents the greatest risk though as there is no telling the temperament of the animal and whether it may be spooked to flee or attack as well.

(#13) [Vote ends: 4/11 @ 8pm PT or 75% votecount] The gryphon presents a unique opportunity to...

... follow in hopes of good news.

... bring down for meat and information.

... capture for future use.

---

Chasing down the gryphon in a flying boat doesn't particularly appeal to you and coming up upon the beast to spear it would be a feat in itself so the most reasonable option is to try and capture it alive if at all possible. Amos is a capable beastmaster who's worked with gryphons in the past, albeit not in a particularly deep fashion. His mentor was a more knowledgeable gryphon handler but Amos would have to do

Calling for the amethyst scaled male, you keep tabs on the winged beast until the grey-eyed kobold arrives, decorated with a necklace of creature teeth and a feathered headdress; not trophies but of memoires. The explanation is brief as is his contemplation of the matter.

"Sure, could probably catch it if we had a catapult and a handful of fly nets." He joked, hands on his hips as he looked up in the direction of the moving speck. When you don't seem moved by his jest, he looks back at you. "Wait, you're serious?" He gawks for a moment. "You want to try and sneak up on a wild animal almost as big and maneuverable as you are in a sluggish floating brick and catch it with, like, a lasso or something?!"

Your silence speaks for itself, those radiant red orbs just watching the light bellied male rub the back of his neck as he continues.

"Hell, just getting it near enough to the ship to try would be a miracle not to mention landing that shot. We'll have to tie down the end so it doesn't get away. And we'd need to tranquilize it just to prevent it from shredding its keepers- mainly me. Cant store it with the rest of the stock, it'll just eat'm up and those droppings, such a mess!" His ramblings are cut short as you interrupt.

"Then you believe it would be better suited to simply harpoon it?"

You've known Amos long enough to know how deeply infatuated he is with his avians. You're not sure why he loves birds so much but leaving his aviary to journey with you on this trip was certainly one of the hardest things he's had to do. The mere mention of killing the gryphon gets a rise out of him.

"Nooo, no, no, nope. Totally doable." He stiffens, lifting a finger in your direction high enough to make you rise up somewhat. Seeming to realize his mistake, the smaller male swings his paws around behind his back and holds them there. "Going to need to do some prep and I'll need at least 10 of the crew to assist with pinning'r down but we'll get the job done." He beams. And while you raise an eye ridge in contemplation as to whether this was the right decision or not, you nod your agreement.

"Then I shall have Zula slip into a cloud bank and work toward the beast." You rumble.

"Oh heavens no! You pop out of the clouds like some giant wooden space carnivore and that feathered beauty will be gone in a flash. Just head toward her at a good clip right in the open so she sees us coming. If we're lucky, she'll be inquisitive and maybe swoop down close enough to get a hook on'r. If not, might have to keep on her tail till she tuckers out." He turns and hops down the deck toward the sub level. "And if we're unlucky, she'll be hungry!" He added nonchalantly.

Your angular snout watches him disappearing. As useful as Amos has been on this journey, there are times you miss his mentor Opfeon... Still, the plan is as solid as you're likely to get and, conveying the objective to Zula, the ship angles toward the soaring gryphon at speed.

Closing the gap takes you some hours and the crew uses the time to prepare for the interception above and below deck. Those with the best throwing arm train with the beastmaster while ropes are brought up and anchored to the ship. A sedative is crafted, strong enough to kill the animal if not applied in the proper amount. Getting it inside the gryphon will be the most dangerous challenge and was something Amos took upon himself to administer personally.

The sun is moving toward mid-day by the time you are close enough to really catch the gryphon's attention. While still much too far to gather the more vivid details of the creature, you've gotten a better look at its colors and structure. It is most definitely a gryphon, sharp beak and wicked talons, graceful feathers and a finely shaped body. While not strictly a threat to a full grown dragon, the great beasts are the closest thing to a threat young dragons need worry about. A single gout of dragonflame would end any dispute with singed feathers but, until an adolescent developed their fire sacks, it was worth being wary of the otherwise majestic carnivores.

At least Amos had been correct in assessing the gryphon's potential interest in the ship. Once realizing she was being tailed, the beast circled back and begin swinging around the ship in a wide arc. Sitting on the quarterdeck with your navigator, you remain relatively motionless so as not to spook the critter as the proceedings begin.

Its great wings spread out upon the wind, only slight motions made to keep itself aloft as it slides into a relatively stable pattern of circling the ship. There is almost a pang of jealousy at watching it sore freely like that but you don't let such things sink in, just keeping an eye on the proceedings instead, lest you need to step in.

For all the difficulty you have with the lavender bellied beastmaster, he knows his craft easily as well as his predecessor. Upon the broad dragondeck, a single rabbit is tied to a barrel, gnawing on the collection of scrap vegetables. Along the ship's frame is lined a dozen crewmates all armed with slipknot lassos ready to capture the creature should it take the bait and above, on a wire, dangles a fishing net ready to drop down and help entangle the beast's wings. Not a perfect solution but better to cover all the bases.

For his part, Amos is hiding behind a mast with his little flask of poison ready to spring to action. Then, he steps out of hiding and looks up at the gryphon. You are unable to see what he's looking at with the beast currently hidden on the other side of the sails but, whatever he sees gives him pause. You aren't sure whether his hands plopping down on his hips again is a good sign or a bad sign and he offers no explanation as he slots the vial into his belt and simply turns to trot down below deck.

The entire staff, poised in their positions, gives a confused look at one another, not sure what to do now. Even you must admit this behavior is quite unexpected, to the point that your snout turns toward Zula curiously. The black and blue kobold just glances back over her shoulder with an inconclusive shrug, maintaining the course until told otherwise.

Thankfully the confusion is short lived as the beastmaster quickly trots back up the stairs, fidgeting with small handheld drum with two strung beads on either side and slipping a wooden handle snuggly within its central orifice. With the entire proceeding still left in the dark as to the purpose of all the confusion, the small male wiggles the drum one way, then the other but not enough to sound it. Only once he seems confident in his musing does the minni'sjalfur spin the drum in a very specific pattern.

The sound of it makes your very teeth ache. The drum is not made of wood and hide as most instruments are but rather a special metallic glass that resonates in your brain like a woodpecker at your skull. It's not a sound you've heard in many years but you recognize its purpose and_only_ for that reason do you tolerate its continued use.

The gryphon also recognizes its sound with a screech, the beast rolling over and stretching its forelimbs out in the air as it performs a diving backward swoop. Amos scrunches his snout in disapproval, pausing his drumming to adjust the beat, this time getting the animal to perform a tight circular corkscrew maneuver to gain height. A third set of beats causes the gryphon to come to a stop and hover in mid air, slowly beating its wings to reverse direction.

You are about ready to just burn the drum out of Amos' paws when, at last, he seems to provide the correct rhythm of beats to call the bird in. With a quick swoop and flop, the stallion-sized flying animal makes its landing. With only minor hesitation, the amethyst scaled kobold steps up and reaches out to gingerly pet the curved beak of his quarry. It takes him a moment to catch the curious psst's and rope-gestures from the waiting crew for him to dismissively wave away their inclination to try and pin the gryphon down, looking almost offended that they had the audacity to even consider it.

"She's a carrier bird." He calls back in your direction, then pauses to duck down beneath the gryphon's tail to confirm, raising back up with a self-approving nod. "Someone's trained her."

Your approach is calm and obvious so as not to spook the beast but, despite the approach of a full grown dragon, the feathered feline doesn't seem the least bit alarmed or wary. Curious.

"Amos?" You call, having decided to approach to speak more softly rather than roar out across the ship. Realizing your presence for the first time since the whole ordeal started, he steps away from petting those glorious feathers and clears his throat.

"Sir?" Comes the response. You get the feeling he knows what you're going to ask and is avoiding it, currently casually trying to hide the drum behind his back.

"I believe that is a Vanamos drum?" You state plainly. He pulls the thing out to observe it as if for the first time.

"So it is!" You raise an eye ridge at his response.

"You know why the practice was discontinued don't you?" Your inquiry is provided flat and matter-of-factly.

"Beeecause dragons hate the sound?" You nod slowly. "Aaaaand it tends to attract wild gryphons too." You nod again. "Aaaaand the den-den beads are made from dragon bone- though these were made from recovered dragon teeth, promise!" He adds hastily.

The look you give him is not agreeable.

"While your results speak for themselves-" You nod your head toward the gryphon who has since turned to crush the rabbit in its beak and begin prying open its fluffy carcass. "-I would request some warning in the future should you need to resort such... drastic measures to achieve your goal." You cannot be entirely sure if the message was correctly received based on his beaming smile and nod.

"To be sure, betri'vera, the practice has not been officially used or observed in some two or three hundred years, but my master always found it fascinating and taught me about it. I'm impressed it still works. Someone must still use it!" He spoke gleefully, patting the feathered female on the haunch proudly. Only when he sees your look of disapproval does his shy away from his indulgence to quickly disassemble the drum.

Your red eyes give the situation weight but you don't chastise him further. The issue was handled swiftly and with best possible outcome. Despite the slight headache caused from the drum, you can't argue with the value of using such an archaic method in this situation.

"Once she is finished, store her in my den." With that said, you turn back and head toward the quarterdeck.

"Your den sir?" The violet male inquires with a start. You pause, speaking over your shoulder.

"Is there a problem?"

"Well... no... just... like I said; they can be quite... messy." He speaks at length, trying to convey his message without being too detailed.

"Then I expect you to stay with her and keep her_clean_." You rumble, demoting the beastmaster to a stable hand for his transgression without another word of argument.

The small kobold scrunches his snout up as he looks at the gryphon's tailfeathers but sighs in resignation and bobs his snout in acceptance.

"Yes sir."

The rest of the day passes without incident, the deck and crew cleaning up the unneeded preparations and returning to what passes as normality these days. One thing you had not considered was water. On the ocean you can purify the sea water for drinking but, up here, that abundance of liquid is sparse. You may need to consider some other way of collecting moisture for your crew soon. For now though, you decide to tend to your gryphon problem.

As the sun sets, you retreat back to your den where Amos and the gryphoness wait. Her head lifts and ears perk at your intrusion but, otherwise, she simply remains lying in the makeshift nest the beastmaster created for her. You can tell she's been all around your den but there is little here for her to disrupt. For his part, the steely eyed kobold simply has a book, reading up on gryphons and returns to attention upon your entrance.

You cross the distance to your own den in silence and make yourself comfortable, contemplating what to do with her.

"Amos." You speak, catching the kobold's attention. "Go tend to the rest of your flock. You can check on this one in the morning. I will try not to eat her."

The look he gives you makes you wonder if your attempt at humor was misplaced but he slinks off, albeit with a bit of reluctance, all the same. Now you have to decide what to do with the gryphon. Her sharp avian eyes observe you, not fearless but certainly with an unusual lack of concern. You aren't sure what could cause this creature to remain so cavalier around another predator larger and more powerful than herself. Perhaps she has never seen a dragon before? Or perhaps she has seen many...? You ponder over your own thoughts silently while she lays her head down over her forepaws.

Capturing her was a good idea. Perhaps with a little scrying you can obtain details of her recent whereabouts. Animals don't store memories in the same way more sentient creatures do. You could tell a kobold to tell you where it's from and, even if it tries not to think about it, you can still pull the image from its mind easily enough; it's not as simple a feat with a beast. You'll have to think of a way to entice the creature's memories out in a reasonable order...

And then there's the other option.

It would be a simple matter to draw up a glamour and hide yourself as a gryphon bull to court the gryphoness. While the idea of mating with an animal might be considered beneath you, there is not a one on the ship who would judge you for it. In a more open, enamored mood, her mind will be easier to see into and, there is something alluring about being able to actually mate a female. To their credit, the minni'sjalfur are quite adept at pleasing you despite their limitations but a full feral gryphoness presents an opportunity you've not had in many years...

Then again, you could just eat her. You could swallow her whole and absorb her essence in the process. It will allow you to probe her mind only once but it will give you the most complete picture in the process.

Your eyes take in her plumage while you make up your mind.

(#14) [Vote ends: 4/26 @ 8pm PT or 75% votecount] The gryphon's unique opportunities continue.

Probe her mind in her sleep to see what you can glean.

Mount her to probe specific thoughts.

Swallow her and make her part of you.

---

Even before deciding on exactly what to do with her, you find yourself already scrying a runic circle on the back of your other paw. Its been nearly two weeks since your time with Ember and a bit of friskiness has crept up in your down time. The little two-legged beasts have spoiled you but that enjoyment has been one of the few pleasures you've been able to engage in these past few centuries. Sliding a claw across your scales seems to catch her attention but not before the spell is complete.

When those perky ears catch enough to entice her curiosity, the angular beak turns in your direction and the difference in her recognition is immediately apparent. Where once a large black dragon lay, now rest gryphon of similar proportions, black as night with fine red highlights and eyes of crimson. You have little need to try to conceal your identity so the appearance and coloration is not exactly imaginative. Her confusion is evident, the feral female shifting to stand, ducking her head down to observe the sudden gryph with suspicion.

But you simply remain there, laying in your little nest of pillows, watching her as she watches you. Eventually curiosity overcomes her caution and the tentative bird takes a few steps closer with feathers puffed slightly in warning. Still you remain relatively motionless, just your_beak_ and eyes moving to follow her. It isn't until she moves in to try and test the bull laying before her that your body moves and fluidly lifts onto all fours. Her jump back isn't unexpected as you shake off some, flittering around the fauxfeathers.

The illusion is just that; an illusion and you'd rather her not poke around trying to preen plumage that isn't actually there. Now you just have to remember gryphon courtship from all those years ago.

Winning her trust and easing away some of that apprehension is a good start. Plotting around behind the retreating gryphoness takes some time but the longer she has a gryphon stud following her, the more real the feel of the illusion becomes until, at last, she stops roaming around your den and allows you to stride up against her flank, feathers brushing against scales that feel like feathers to her. Your snout dips in under hers and brushes against her throat, careful to keep your hidden horns out of the way as you nose into her plumage.

Your teeth are not a beak by any means but careful nibbles make her not care as her feathers puff up again- though for a very different reason this time. You made your illusionary self smaller than your physical form by a hand or two so the sensations don't quite line up with the actual act but she's not paying enough attention to contextualize the lack of continuity. Once you've buttered her up enough, you slip around in front of her and pass down her other flank, dipping your snout beneath her tailfeathers. An interested hen will raise them naturally. Finding them lifted makes you rumble appreciatively.

The sound seems to catch her off guard as she dances away and looks around for the source. Your features just perk up, smiling inwardly; a perceptive female indeed. The noise doesn't seem to frighten her, just confuse the poor thing. The interruption has you spending the next few minutes chasing her tail in a very animalistic fashion but, eventually, even she must relent to your persistence. You're fairly certain she's in heat and, while the scent of your arousal is different than that of her own species, it has some of the same pheromonal marks to help ease her into a receptive state.

Perhaps that's why you find the urge to mount this feathered female strong enough to make you act upon it; having a gryphoness in heat cooped up in your den all day has made the room smell distinctly of her. Either way, the last half hour's worth of effort comes to fruition as your paws reach out and grip her haunches. The smaller bird's body jumps slightly at the contact but she doesn't try to pull away as you crawl up and mount her. Your scaly belly slides up her feathery backside, putting a not-insignificant portion of your weight upon her.

Impressively she holds her own, ears folding for a moment before perking back up as your breath ruffles the back of her neck. Often you've seen males struggle for the first few bucks to make it inside their mounts and, while you've been doing your best to emulate the natural behavior, in this instance you decide to skip the act and let your tapered pink shaft pry her feral pussy open on the first go, climbing fully onto and inside this lovely hen.

There is a part of you that resists the full intrusion at first, having spent so many of these encounters with bodies too small to fully_appreciate_ the length and girth of a dragon; but once that initial trepidation passes, the rest of your spire flows into her yielding depths until her tailfeathers are forced up fully out of the way. Its difficult to resist a rumble of satisfaction at feeling the embrace of a female clenching all the way up around the turquoise base of your shaft, though you do manage to reduce it to just a quick hiss that only causes her ear to flick.

Once in the grip of your powerful talons, she's not going anywhere and you have time to let that prehensile flesh bathe in the warm glow of her delicious feminine form. Despite the indulgent resonance from such an act, you are here for a particular purpose beyond your own lust. With your cockflesh under her tail, distracting the smaller hen with its unusual movements, it's a simple matter of slipping a sliver of energy into her mind and reaching across her consciousness like a wicked lover's embrace and gently begin massaging her thoughts.

Standing there half perched, you begin rocking, slowly at first with your attention split between mind and body, trying to organize the erratic sensations coming through. There is another bird in the haze, perhaps a mate or mother or sibling. Too old to be a sibling. Not a caretaker, likely a mate. So not a virgin bird. She seemed old enough to have clutched before. Your tip curls into a slight ball as you thrust in again, adding a bit of a flare to the tip, making her shift and clench around you as your hips push and pull that deeply embedded dragonshaft through her naked channel.

New thoughts shift and slip through her mind. Hatchlings. Not nestmates, the perspective is too high. Her own clutch perhaps, or perhaps one of her mother's later litters. A memory of food, pouncing upon an animal you don't recognize and fishing near shores. Gryphons don't commonly roost near water but Amos had already determined she was not wild. Perhaps the creatures that owned and trained her lived near a shore?

You shift your stance and dig in a little deeper, both physically and mentally. Your bucking thrusts are strong and full, long luscious strokes spread her natural nectar all along your bare cockflesh and her silken channel at the same time. The scent of feral sex is even more vicious as your own flavor beings to creep in to the mix with a generous glazing of precum added to keep this little hen capable of taking you for much longer. A stud of her own species would undoubtedly have finished by now; the goal to sire a clutch foremost above pleasure.

Such is not the case for you as your slippery shaft screws deep into her willing sex for several minutes and several minutes more as you carefully fuck the answers out of her mind one cock-gorged thrust at a time. There are other creatures in her memory around this clutch, vague creatures not of gryphon origin and less distinct in her mind but somehow familiar to yours. They are with the clutch and sometimes seem to be the clutch. Your eyes peer unfocused on the back of her neck as you feel your peek rising.

You have an unfair advantage in this mating game but no one said life was fair. With an easy motion, you bring your snout down to her neck and bite her scruff. Its not hard enough to break skin but it will most certainly fray several of her feathers as you forego the investigation of her mind for a moment to solely concentrate on the other half of this interaction. Long, hot, wet strokes from tip to base, your body impacting hers in a way that just satisfies that deep dark primal part of you.

Without hesitation you let the pleasure of the moment bubble over and come pouring out of your cervix-tickling tip with a pressure you know she can feel with that slight little jump she makes at the end. A pool of glowing semen pulses from your twitching tip as you whitewash her insides in a way that makes your breath puff from flare nostrils in deep draughts. She'll not get a clutch from this particular encounter despite her body's want of just such an outcome. Likely for the best though- you muse, coming down off your high while plucking your teeth from her feathers.

Dracogryphs are not the easiest chicks for an aspiring hen to suckle after all.

The passing moment leaves you blind to her thoughts for a spell and, when you return to sorting out the chaotic assortment of images passing through her pleasured mind, you find one particularly interesting memory. It depicts the same scene of her at the shore but there is no water to be seen now. You aren't sure what to make of it. Perhaps her home experienced some sort of drought or catastrophic event? Was that why she was out here? Looking for food or a new aerie perhaps?

Your spent shaft relaxes in the cum-soaked sauna of her vent for some time before it begins to return to yours and, as your great form retreats from her finely feathered body, a slosh of dragon cum spills from the feral female as the cork of your cock slips free completely. She doesn't seem much bothered by it, simply taking a few steps forward to let her well used inner muscles clench up reflexively, her animalistic vent glistening with the remains of her latest breeding with but a string of your sticky semen dripping off the cusp of her fluffy cunt to show for it.

You break the bond you have with her mind too, unlikely to get much more out of her. Or into her for that matter- you muse, noting the slight swell to her tummy from your egregious orgasm. The puddle left on the floor glows faintly as well while you return to your nest to clean yourself and think upon what you've learned.

It's not much but you don't get the impression she's lost. That could be an indication that there is land nearby but that still doesn't explain how she got so high. And were her tamer's nearby as well? If she had been trained under the Vanamos method, then did that mean her trainer was from the mainland? There were just more questions than answers- you think as you brush off the spell circle, wiping away the glamour much to the confusion of the gryphon mare.

You let her sort it out on her own though as you lay down and curl up to rest and ponder on this new knowledge.

You are woken early by a rasp on your door. Somehow the noise manages to both be apprehensive and eager at the same time.

"Yes Amos." You rumble. The gryphoness, who had returned to her own nest perks first at the noise from the door, then toward you as you respond, seemingly completely over the trick that had been played on her the night before. The amethyst snout pokes in, relief flooding over his face at seeing both of you are still there.

"OH, I, uh, just was coming by to check on our guest." He commented, nodding in affirmation.

"Then you are right on time. I believe there is a bit of a mess that needs cleaned up from last night." You say, raising to stretch some. Your motion rouses the gryphoness who dose the same though with greater swiftness.

"OH! I am so very sorry sir. Like I said, they can be a handful and, I, uh... wait...?" The small male ambles on as he walks in, finding a different sort of mess than he expected.

You're great bulk passes by the beastmaster without a second glance.

"And once you finish cleaning the den, I expect you should find a way to store her elsewhere in the cabin. I cannot guarantee I won't eat her every night." You purr, stepping onto the deck and leaving the kobold and his charge behind.

Your exploration of the gryphon memories you gleaned the night before gave you little insight into the questions that her presence has added. The cold morning air helps clear your mind though and, for the first time in a while, you get to watch the sunrise without a procession kobold bodies at its flank.

"Betri'vera." Bobs the black and blue snout of your navigator as she resumes her place at the helm, taking over from the night watchman. Your snout dips back in greeting.

Those coming back from a night's rest began filtering in up on deck. The normally strict regime of the crew has been rather relaxed for the past week with very little needing to be done on the ship now floating casually on an ethereal breeze. It gave Ramah time to train more of the crew on defensive combat and there were new tasks for the fresh junior members to learn but Ash still spent most of his time in the crow's nest and Zula here at the helm with little else to do.

"What do you think? Will we be up here much longer?" She inquires as the wind ruffles her purple crest feathers.

It is a good question. You move to the rail and look down. You can see ocean again. If your heading didn't take you on a nearly identical trajectory with the storm you might have already attempted to land but you'd rather give it a day or two longer to be safe.

"Are you in a hurry to return to the waves dear Zula?" You rumble curiously. She smiles in that pleasing way of hers.

"Lets just say I'll take sharks and sea monsters over firestorms and soul sucking snakes."

"Worms." You correct.

"Soul sucking worms." She repeats playfully. You nod.

"We could likely make birth already, but I would prefer to wait at least a day before touching down again." This time its Zula who nods.

"Well none of us can land this big boat so whenever you're good to do it, we'll follow. Just curious." She winks.

"Heeey. Heeeeeeeey!" Your ears perk at the sound from above you. Yourself and most of the kobold crew look up to see Ash waving his arms wildly and pointing off starboard.

Every time the gold-bellied kobold finds something, its always been some trouble or danger so there is certainly a part of you that instantly primes into defensive mode but what you see ever-so vaguely outlined within the early morning dewclouds is not anything you expected to find up here. The crew whispers amongst themselves as they try to determine what it is and even you must admit to not believing it yourself at first. But the longer you look and the more you piece it together, the less doubt you can have.

Somehow, some way, there is an island floating there in the clouds.

This must be what you were looking for. The lines of power you were unable to connect, the gryphon's dreams, the focal point of the celestial alignment... Hells alive, no wonder there are so few records of it, the damn thing flies!

"Betri'vera...?" Zula's voice catches your attention and your drawn out of your deep cautious fascination with a jolt.

Your dilated pupil slits slip closed to focus as your head turns down toward her. She doesn't know what it is and weather to be worried, the poor thing looking for reassurance which you give back in great abundance.

"Do you remember Icus' ramblings about 'karma'?" Her puzzled look tells you everything you need to know. "Mmm, no, I suppose that was two hundred and twenty years before your time. He proposed that the world would have a cosmic balance, that good and bad would even itself out." You continue, stepping toward the railing closest to the slowly emerging sky island. "If such as true, based on the amount of 'bad' we have thus far, I believe that island will be the culmination of all of our 'good'." You rumble, eyes glued out on the distance.

"Island?!" She puffs, looking past your deep black bulk, her imagination able to fill in the details her eyes could yet see.

"Indeed my dear. Our journey has taken us to it, now it is nearly at an end. Set our course toward the mass on the horizon and let us see if I am right."

There is little that makes your tail swish these days but this revelation causes your hind appendage to flick back and forth with unusual excitement.

That excitement is soon shared by your crew as more of them begin to realize what it is they're looking at and the call of 'land' is spread about the ship like wildfire. It isn't long until nearly the entire deck is flooded with bodies all grappling to get a view of this miraculous 'land'. It takes Ramah and a few of his guards to bring the mob back into order before things settle down. The ship buzzes with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

Certainly they would all like a chance to stretch their legs on land but... flying land? Such magical phenomenon were becoming commonplace but they knew the ship was under the control of their betri'vera, this island was a magical unknown and considering what other wild magics tended to produce, their apprehension was understandable. Still, the overall vibrance of the crew was positive- which was good considering their heading was taking them directly toward the floating landmass.

And a landmass it was indeed. The sheer size of it was impressive somewhere between one-hundred and two-hundred kilometers with a massive mountain rising out of the top and bulging out of the bottom of the island. Its shape gave it the appearance of a gigantic toy tractricoid top that some galactic god-child had left carelessly lying about. As the day brightened and the sun burned away more and more of the cloud cover, spyglasses could be used to see greater detail of the life brimming upon the island's broad surface.

Despite the intense chill on the thin atmospheric air, the flora remained green and lush with a forest's worth of vegetation packed into every corner. Only the top third of the great central spire was caked in snow with streams of runoff ice water carving uneven rivers all the way to the edge. It was amazing. Lifting a boat made of magewood had cost you the life of a kobold and syphoning magic out of a furystorm; you could only imagine the power required to rip a mountain out of the ground and toss it into the air like this...

Despite the wind in your favor and a heading directly toward the island, it still takes you half the day to catch up with it. Based on Zula's calculations, the land itself must be moving- a discovery that only adds to your understanding of its mystery. That does make docking with the island a bit of a tricky maneuver. Brainstorming with some of the crew they come up with three fairly solid ideas: you could try to simply anchor yourself to the island. The vessel has two standard anchors that you can drop to the surface and see if that holds well enough. Getting on and off the ship will be a bit tricky but that can be managed you suppose; you have a gryphon now after all.

Alternatively, Zula impressed the idea of trying to dock the ship in one of the lakes or rivers. It would require you landing the ship far more inland than you prefer but it would certainly be the most standard and sensible of options. Assuming there were any bodies of water deep enough to take a vessel of this size.

And lastly, you could just run the ship aground. Deflating the spell enough to put the ship in a sort of drydock will give you the ability to land where you want to and give easy access to and from the vessel for all of your crew. But, if you need to disembark in a hurry, things could get complicated.

(#15) [Vote ends: 5/3 @ 8pm PT or 75% votecount] The island awaits.

Anchor to the outskirts of the island. Most of the crew will need to remain onboard.

Beach the ship on the outskirts of the island. Most of the crew can leave the ship.

Dock the ship inland on the island. A skeleton crew will need to remain onboard.

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