Journal @IJ
N/A
1:
[[You urge your steed faster. The long, bounding strides of the orvi takes the glassy rock pathways of your homeland with deceptive ease. You know the great raptor is tiring, the breathing of the clawed bird labored and fast.
You'd left the hunting hounds a day behind, the orvi miraculously escaping those fanged, crushing jaws. Both of you had ridden nearly all night to put extra distance between them, and now you catch yourself swaying further and further with the creatures waddling gait. You cast around, seeking with keen eyes a place to hide for the night. Or at least long enough for your bird to get a second breath.
They couldn't hunt you forever. All you had to do was make it to the border. Lynx's regent would give you sanctuary... at least enough to resupply.]]
2:
(assigned to Hope, never taken)
Concept: Military grunts
Top piece: Fitted generic undershirt
Bottom piece: Slacks (m), loose trousers (f)
Outer piece: Military double breasted (single buttoned) jacket, straight (m) or fitted (f)
Accessory: Student (m) or newsboy (f) caps
Footwear: Ankle boots (m), calf boots (f), socks
[There is the gentle sound of a shuttle moving through taut thread, and as the memory settles deep, your eyes open to the familiar garments of your kin on both yourself and those around you, dyed in deep hues.
Best and the worst was that they stood up to what you could put them through. Roan was good for that; woven tight and coated well it was tough against brush and shed scales both, and while no one ever wanted to ride all night and well to seeing [Dawn's] eyes, everyone did, sooner or later. Itched like mad after the fiftieth hour, but there were soft penna undershirts to stop the worst of it, and to wick the moisture from sweat-drenched skin. Sure you could wear something lighter, but when the last fool who shrugged off his jacket came back with spitter burns covering half his body, you think twice.
Good cut, though, on those jackets. Sharp. Double breasted (though half the buttons stayed hid; less to catch the ground if you took a spill), rested just at the top of the thigh, it more fitted on the female frame, sure, but still something you felt you could respect. Good, strong belts, Slacks down to good, stout pair of ankle boots on the men, and looser trousers, higher boots for the women who could ride the still-fledging orvi without bearing too hard on their bones. And hats, good caps of felted whisp fur, brimmed to keep the sun from your eyes and full enough, especially among the women, to wrap a full head of hair under if need be.
Good, sturdy clothing, all of it. Now if it just needed to be a bit less durable . . . that'd be the life.]
Volcanic
[The sky above you is awash in bright stars, almost overly bright for the lack of a moon to overshadow their glow and your feet below you stirs up a small fog of ash. Your torchlight lights the way for you, lacking the guide of a moon, and casts flicker gold hue across the dull rolling folds of black and red rock, long since cooled from their molten journey across these plains. Here and there, you can make out scraggly brush attempting to reclaim the land for themselves, and can hear the night calls of large birds in the distance, far from the circles of light your torches cast.
In the distance, you can see a reddish glow over the curl of a dead lava chute, and you estimate with a little climbing you could easily make the northward path without issue. The path you travel continues to the south, and the leading torch can catch the glitter of obsidian on the path.]
Decision point one
Northward
[As you continue north, the heat becomes more and more noticeable. Not just ahead, but sometimes even below your boots, seeping up under the blackened ground.
Steam vents hiss and form shapes in the cool night air... And to the north, the glow takes on almost a fantastic light. You see shapes burst into the air, seem to spread their wings and dive back into the distance... it is a downright beautiful display, leaving tails of light in the air, behind the fanning whites, yellows, oranges and golds.
You can either pick you way back or approach the fiery display.]
South
[The path becomes more and more difficult as you travel and you wish, certainly for better boots or a mount to ride. Obsidian crushes beneath your every footfall... and though delicate, it slices even into the thick leather of your shoes. You estimate they will hold out at least the few more miles you need to go as long as you keep picking off the glassy teeth as they bite.
The path continues to the south, and you see the squat, no nonsense buildings ahead. Heavy masonry in both abode and perimeter speak of the militaristic nature of the people ahead... To the right, however, a crow caws, drawing your attention to a huge expanse of flat rock jutting up above the brutal road. It looks like you might be able to climb it to rest, or possibly pick a shortcut out.]
Decision point two
Village
[You are almost in sight of the wrought metal fence when your vision obscures with violet feathers.]
Volcano
[All around you, steam vents gurgle, as nearby boiling water seems to bubble and splash near the surface, as if waiting for a moment to leap, itself.
Ahead of you, you see the dazzling sight you saw from a distance. Your boots footing is slick and your skin dries painfully, your eyes sting and burn, your vision blurry. But it all seems secondary to a strange, ringing call... a bird song made of a melody of many voices, the crackle of fire and hiss of steam...
Again... something leaps up, gold wings in perfect definition stretching out and dripping fire and lava behind it. It soars into the air, high up into the sky... and at its arc... turns to stone and ash... and still on fire, plummets back into the lava pit to be reabsorbed.
... It is an incredible dance... until the one... about to rise in its flight as well... seems to turn its great, molten head towards you and spots you with a blue-white eye...]
Resting spot
[As you scramble onto the mercifully flat and smooth plane, you have only a moment to rest before you hear a crow again. Its caws are throaty, and burble like laughter.]
“Meet you! Got you I did. Look look, not a mocking bird! A crow does better.”
[As you look back... your vision obscures with violet hued feathers and ... perfect duplicates of yourselves are making that stuttering, pained way across the glass road to the village.]
“What will you do? What will you do?”
Boss
[The firebird launches into the air and around you, several vents boil... and then shoot water into the air, like the geysers hailed the presence of the bird as well... or sensed its anger. It circles, its wings stretched to full extension......
And then dives at your group.]