Bits & Pieces: One-Shots, Vapor Play, & Tie-Ins

[Ebon Ilnaren]

((This thread is for one-shot posts, such as tie-ins to community events, or vapor-play involving Ebon & Co.))

[Ebon Ilnaren]

25 August, 2019

News of the earthquakes that swept through the goblin hamlets on Twilight Isle spread quickly through RhyDin, and particularly through the dueling community. Though he was not a regular on the Isle, Ebon was not one to turn away from those in need. So it was that, even as dawn broke over the devastated settlement, he was there to lend a hand, or rather a mind. While others tended to those who were injured or made sure that goblin families were together, Ebon put his own talent to work clearing debris, or shoring up crumbling walls and roofs so that once-trapped occupants could get clear.

Shortly before noon, a number of Stardreamer fosterlings and former fosterlings arrived at the Isle, led by Doran and bringing with them numerous blankets. bedding, and goblin-sized clothes, as well as provisions. The youngest of the children did their part by keeping the goblin youngsters' spirits up with play and shared stories.

[Ebon Ilnaren]

October 4
Dragon’s Gate Dueling Sword

As he approached the venerable structure for the first time since he’d last held the Barony, Ebon found himself strangely awed. He had been invited to attend a meeting that could well change the face of the Duel of Swords, and it left him somewhat humbled.

Hubert Fontaine rose as he entered the sitting room where they were to meet. “Good afternoon, Baron. It’s a pleasure to have you here again.”

“The pleasure and honor are mine, sir.” Ebon shook the man’s hand before they both sat down. “Will the Overlord be joining us?” He used Michelle’s official title because, somehow, referring to her as Overbaker seemed less appropriate under the circumstances. “I hope I’m not too early.”

“No, I understand she will be joining us shortly,” Hubert replied with a smile, courteous without being overly forward. “I wanted to take the opportunity to speak with you privately first. Since you are the new Baron, I was wondering how familiar you are with the Dragon’s Gate Dueling Sword? Its history?”

A slight flush darkened Ebon’s tanned features. “I am sad to say, not so much. When I was the Baron before, I spent far too little time here. Eden had mentioned it to me when we talked after the challenge, of course, and I made a mental note to reach out to you. Unfortunately, life had other plans for me, and then I was gone. Still, I have learned a few things.” At Hubert’s silent prompting, he went on. “This was originally owned and run by the instructor Lamoine,” and he nodded towards where that man’s portrait hung like a guardian over the school, “and he agreed to sell it to the Duel of Swords to carry on his legacy. A task that the leaders of the sport have not always lived up to, I fear, myself included as I said. Until now.”

“You think you can improve the situation?”

“I hope I can help, and I plan to do so, no matter how long I reign as Baron, here or elsewhere.” There was a determination that bordered on ferocity underlying Ebon’s tone. “The dueling sports foster strength of mind, body, and spirit alike, and the Duel of Swords in particular helps to tie communities together in each of the city’s districts. This place should embody that core of the sport, as a place for students to strengthen those virtues in themselves and thus strengthen us all.”

[Ebon Ilnaren]

Michelle walked up the familiar steps to the two-story brick building. The wooden double doors bore the marks of frequent use and loving care. As she stepped in, she noted the carpet replacement had finally finished - beige with a printed gold-swirling pattern. Immediately to her left were a waiting room and three offices. Ahead of her, a hallway to her left lead to the Dining Room, Museum, and an assortment of meeting rooms. To the right was the instructional wing with classrooms and the training centre. The north-east corner office adjacent to the meeting room was lit, the door ajar and two men chatting inside. She smiled, it was just like Hubert to meet Ebon and get a read on him ahead of time.

Lamoine’s eyes seemed to settle on her as she entered the room. Michelle secretly believed the portrait was enchanted. In the centre of the room were a round table and three over-stuffed burgundy armchairs. She noted the desk had been removed as had the bookshelf. Probably part of the remodelling.

“Good evening Ebon, Hubert.”

Hubert stood the moment she entered the room. “Lady Montoya, a pleasure as always.” He gestured to the seat next to Ebon. “We were just talking about the task ahead of us.” Michelle sat down, setting her tote to the side and filling up a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. She shifted her gaze to Ebon with a smile, curious to hear more.

“Indeed,” added Ebon, “I was sharing my thoughts with Hubert here about what the Dragon’s Gate Dueling Sword could do, for the sport and for RhyDin as a whole. With our support, and that of the other Barons, we could build a solid foundation for the future of our city.” Then he paused a moment before chuckling softly. “Listen to me, sounding like I’m campaigning again. Old habits dying hard, I suppose.”

“I think it’s great Ebon, we need that kind of enthusiasm and charisma. Do you have any ideas of what you’d like to do as Baron of Dragon’s Gate to help build that foundation?”

Ebon’s brow furrowed with thought as he considered the question. “One of the differences between the Duel of Swords and the other sports, in my opinion, is that connection to the communities within each district. You know what I mean, Michelle; you must have had the same sense when you organized a district block party. It’s not enough just to learn how to fight well with blade or staff. As Mr, Fontaine here has told me, Instructor Lamoine sought to instill in his students a sense of courtesy and leadership, as well as dueling skill. So I would encourage community outreach from the students, and at the same time invite the citizens of Dragon’s Gate to support the Dueling Sword as much as possible.”

“How would you achieve that?” The question came from Hubert.

“Oh, I can imagine a number of ways. Fund-raising within the community to support the school’s expenses. Michelle,” and he turned to the Overlord, “I think you suggested a tournament among the students?”

She nodded, “I was thinking of a tournament but I was actually considering hosting a for-fun tournament with our dueling community. We could have an entry fee where half the sum went to the winner and half went to the Dragon’s Gate Dueling Sword. Perhaps we could ask some of the local businesses to donate prizes as well for first, second and third place.”

“I can help arrange that. I still know many of the shopkeeps and proprietors from my days in office.” Ebon looked back to Hubert. “Are there any businesses that have already offered support to the Sword?”

Hubert gestured to Michelle. “Formally, only Bak’d. I daresay we could get others, though. The Red Orc Brewery, for example, which is right here in the district.”

“There are others outside of Dragon’s Gate that could--and likely would--be willing to donate without much convincing. I make up a list and press the flesh a bit.”

Michelle nodded, “You’d likely have better luck than either of us. You are well known and established here, and your service as Governor will be an asset in ‘pressing the flesh’ as you say. Speaking of which, has Hubert told you of our initiative regarding Baron’s and guest instruction?”


((written with Michelle Montoya))

[Ebon Ilnaren]

“Yes, he did. I understand that some of the Barons are onboard, but at least one declined. Let’s see.” Ebon ticked off names on his fingers as he spoke them. “Jewell and Gren are willing to stand in as instructors, and myself of course. I expect Mallory will be up for the challenge; she has a somewhat full schedule, but she’s got the teaching chops so there’s that. I’m… afraid I don’t know what to make of Arithon, but the other Barons seem approachable.”

Michelle nodded. “That’s about right. Arithon has been missing for some time, and of course we have a number of people with challenge grants so we may see some changes. I expect that most, if not all, of the Baron’s will respond positively to your invitations - schedules permitting.”

“Well, I will feel out the other Barons, potential Barons, and other prominent duelists within our sport. Give me a week to make the rounds in person, see who I can see, and after that I will reach out via courier to those I haven’t run into, inviting them to participate.” Ebon sat silent for a moment’s pause. “I do agree that most will accept; one thing that holds true for us all is that, whether we admit it our not, we crave appreciation and acknowledgement of our skill. Even the humblest of us.”

Hubert spoke up then, almost reprovingly. “This isn’t about massaging your egos.”

“True, it’s not,” agreed Ebon. “The goal here is to support the Dueling Sword as a place for the future of our sport to grow and blossom. You must admit, however, that a good ‘ego massage’, as you so aptly phrased it, can be a useful recruitment tool.” Even Hubert had to nod at that.

“Speaking as a baker,” chimed in Michelle, grinning, “I know the value of good ingredients, and that principle applies equally well here. Each of our potential instructors brings something uniquely their own to the mix, in terms of both experience and style.”

Ebon snapped his fingers and pointed to her. “Excellent point, Michelle! We all spring from different backgrounds, with varying personalities that are reflected in our approaches to dueling, even our choice of weapons. It may be called the Duel of Swords, but not all of us use them; I’m partial to a staff, myself, and I’ve seen everything from axes to rapiers, from knives to spears. The students will benefit from that variety of instruction to find the right fit for themselves.”

“And not just within the ring, but outside of it as well,” added the Overbaker, “with courtesy, grace, and leadership.”

“All very important! We don’t need more Jonns in this sport.” Ebon looked to Michelle, who pursed her lips slightly in response.

“So then, madame, sir, I think we have a plan to help the Dragon’s Gate Dueling Sword realize its full potential.” Hubert rose to his feet, and the other two soon stood as well. “There are, of course, logistic concerns, but we can deal with those as they arise. Having such prominent duelists as instructors here will be a draw for students, and for parents hoping to find their children the best teachers. Personally I would rather have to cope with a surplus of students than see these halls half-empty, and I think my old friend would agree.” He gestured to the portrait of Lamoine that had watched over the meeting as almost a silent participant.

“Indeed!” Ebon offered the man his hand, and they shook, and then turned to Michelle. “Well, I will reach out to the other Barons and see what they have to say. Hopefully I’ll see one or two, at least, at the Arena next Thursday. If not, then I’ll send messages all around.”

“Was there anything else for today?” Michelle’s tone was casual and polite, not the least bit hurried.

Hubert shook his head. “No, I think we’ve laid some foundations for how to approach this. Now it’s up to the Baron.”

That made Ebon chuckle amusedly. “No pressure. Well, if we’re done planning for now, I thought I might see what some of the students are up to today. Lay on, MacDuff.” He gestured for Hubert to lead the way; the man shook his head in bemusement as he headed out of the room, while Ebon looked to Michelle. “Coming, Overbaker?”


((co-written with Michelle))

[Ebon Ilnaren]

October 19th

The evening was late, and while the smaller moon was in the skies above Rhy'din, it remained shrouded by clouds. Ebon was heading home through Dragon's Gate, seemingly inattentive to the city around him. He even hummed a faint tune.

A gentle thud, was all that allowed Renna's presence to be known. That, and the floral scent of her perfume. High heels clicked behind Ebon, her footsteps matching his. "Hello, Ebon."

He kept walking, not even breaking stride. "Hello, Renna." Though he didn't look at her, his tone was tinged with- not anger or hatred. Disdain, perhaps, but also a touch of amusement. "Enjoying the night?"

"I am. Granted, this city..." She made a motion he never saw. "It always is interesting. Heading home I see?"

"That was my plan," he replied drily.

"I know. I watch your movements. Always. As well as Doran. Including your home." She made a motion as he turned to the large bird flying circles overhead.

Finally he turned to look at her, eyebrow raised. "You look... well."

A simple white dress clung to her. Fleshed entirely--no metallic claws. No flaws. No scars. Her hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Her high heels were crystalline in nature---transparent and yet tinted purple. However, in her hand, she held a gun pointed right at him. "So do you."

His eyebrow arched. "A gun? Really?"

She smiled. "It might look simple." It looked like a standard snub-nosed Dan Wesson revolver. "But it isn't." She tilted her head, her burning crimsons glowing. "I came to talk."

Pinpoints of white light flared within Ebon's own midnight eyes, and an unseen force gripped Renna's gun hand, forcing her arm back that the weapon was pointing up beneath her own chin. His mouth twitched into a smirk. "Then talk." He released his hold on her arm, having made his point. "I'm always willing to talk... although, do you mind if we talk and walk?"

Struggling with the weapon, Renna released an too inappropriate sigh as she felt the barrel of the gun against her own chin, and when he released it, she kept it there. Her eyes rolled back into her head as her eyelids fluttered. Her body shuddered with anticipation. It never came. He released it. But she kept the gun pressed against her own chin and even pressed it harder so that the barrel pushed into the flesh under her chin. "No, not really. I don't want any closer to your home, then we are now." An odd coldness overcame him as her eyes buried at his. They seemed... Inviting. Almost lovely to look at. His disdain was awash with a pleasant sensation tickling his skin and, for whatever reason, he wanted to step closer to her. Like a planet seeking to escape a black hole, but only orbiting closer.

Ebon felt his face go slack, almost numb, and he took a step forward. Then, in the depths of his subconscious mindscape, a flame blossomed, shining like a beacon, and he heard a voice, Phen's voice. Be strong. His eyes grew narrow and his lips thinned. "You've learned some new tricks, I see." Surprisingly, he didn't seem very upset, recovering his poise in moments.

She stared harder. "No. I ate someone similar to you." The sensation on him---on his feet, felt like magnets. A gravitonic pull that almost could not be denied, but... Well, she knew better. A step alone was enough for her. Or two. Or three. Her crimsons glowed hotter, the very pupil of her irises becoming a darkness that invited a singular light at the center. And then, in his head, he heard her voice. Come take this gun from me, Ebon. She relaxed the grip of her hand, and pulled the hand away from her own chin, allowing the gun to go slack in her grip, the weapon dangling on an index finger. "It's an offering... of peace. My last one."

"Someone similar?" Thoughts raced through the back of Ebon's mind, even as he focused on Renna. Doran? Velen? Azure? No, they were all well and good; he had even seen all of them within the past two days. The smirk returned when he heard her voice in his head. *Why should I try to take it? I've no need for guns." Then she spoke of a peace offering, and that gave him pause. "I would like peace, but-" He frowned. "How can you expect me to trust you, after all you've done? To this city, to my family? You and your cohort tried to kill me. You abducted my daughter, my son... even though they came back to me, the fact that you took them is damning."

"I did that. That I cannot deny. And yes, I did that. For a reason. Perhaps a reason you cannot or even no one can comprehend. Not that I am saying I am working for some higher power because there is none, but myself. I am a selfish evil creature. I know that. Should you trust me? No. No you shouldn't. But I am not here for my own ends. If I was? I'd have attacked you on sight and hoped somehow, I could overtake you... and eat you. Absorb your powers. Your genetics. You and your whole family, was nothing but an experiment for me. Or, was..." She smirked a little, then she closed her eyes. "No you don't need guns, Ebon. Guns are nothing to you, but this? Is my greatest weapon. Better than me and better than you." She paused, lowering her gaze. "I am doing this for Batten. And don't think for a moment I'd do this selfishly. I am doing this for him. This weapon is not for you. It is for Doran." Renna looked to the weapon, then to him. "I don't expect you to trust me. I predicted as much. A fool could predict a spider cradling a fly back to health is out only for one purpose only."

She tossed the gun to his feet. "It is for Doran." She soured. "I've come to you because perhaps you could give him it, where I could not. Since he... well... he hates me. And justifiably so." She added, softly, "And this city?" Her crimson eyes looked about. "Has given me nothing but pain and yet, you people? Look at you. Living life. Heroes. Where are my moments when I saved so many of you? Nothing. Nothing is ever remembered about that, hm? But that's fine. I don't care anymore anyhow."

Without taking his eyes from Renna, Ebon crouched down and picked up the gun, then straightened once more. "You have done good. It may have been only a fraction of your total deeds, but I can't deny that truth." A soft chuckle slipped from his lips. "I accept your peace." One hand reached out, held there as an offering.

Renna stared to the hand. Then looked to his face. "I am going to do something you will hate, Ebon." She indicated the weapon. "You will promise me you will give Doran the gun and you tell him exactly, what I am about to tell you."

He lowered his hand and nodded. "I can promise that."

She held up her hand. "Five shots. I can produce more bullets but I doubt you will ask of me for that. He must understand that this weapon is a last, resort. If there is no other. He cannot use it unless he, or someone he loves, is in grave, grave danger."

She nodded slowly. "Somewhat. Each bullet contains a part of my SCHISM Technology, directly from my Engine. It displaces space. Imagine... she..." She paused, waving a hand. "If you were shot with this? Like I aimed at you? Imagine... Well. If struck? Which I doubt I could had, by the way... You are a slimy bastard... Then your chest?" She pointed at him, then to the wall. "Was suddenly over there----" The added question caught her off guard. She stood wide eyed. Her cheeks reddened. She looked away. "What has he got to do with anything with this conversation?"

"Nothing really, I was simply curious." The redness in Renna's cheeks spoke volumes, and Ebon smiled warmly despite himself. "An impressive weapon."

Renna kept her eyes away, then, looked at him. "Yes." She affirmed with a certainty that burned with her eyes. "He created me."

"He's a good man, if a trifle... reckless." He regarded the gun again. "I could probably think of a few entities that could survive this, but I do thank you." Then his dark eyes turned back to Renna. "I don't think Doran hates you. I think he pities you."

"No. He will hate me." She indicated the weapon. "Edward gave back a shard of... her. Renna." She hissed. "I made this." She indicated the weapon. "It is made to kill not only those you think, that can escape." She pressed her hands to her own chest. "It's made to kill me."

"Very well," was Ebon's succinct reply.

"I thought, maybe... this, would be enough..." She looked to him, searchingly. "So that you don't have to worry about me again."

His expression was stony, the perfect poker face, for a minute. Then another. Finally he cracked the slightest of smiles. "I appreciate that. Thank you." He tucked the gun into the back of his belt. "Although you do have a tendency towards multiple bodies. I may need to get more bullets." There was actual humor in his voice, however dry.

"I have clones. Yes. But this one? No, it's not one of them." She indicated him. "You can end it now if you want. I am sure Batten wouldn't mind."

"No." Ebon actually grinned. "I'd hate to have to clean up the mess."

Slowly, she held out hand her hand. "Ebon."

He took and shook it, firmly but not unduly so. "Renna." His bracers seemed to vibrate for just a second as they touched.

She gripped his hand tight. "Ebon." Then released it. "And yes. Yes. I Do. I love him. Absolutely. There is nothing I will not do for him and I am in love with him."

"Then I hope the best for both of you." If Renna had any sense of empathy, she would feel the honesty in Ebon's words. "I'm actually tempted to stop by the Red Dragon--Tenball told me he's going to try a shift behind the bar, to see if it's a good fit. But I should be getting home." With a nod of farewell, he turned and went on his way.

((taken from live play with Renna))

[Sylva]

In the morning, Christmas morning to be exact, the Ilnaren would find that someone had snuck into the manor! Maybe santa? Maybe...not. Nope, definitely Sylva because she wasn't shy about leaving a note behind. Several items were left behind in her wake, each specific to a family member.

Waiting for Ebon and Phen - a pair of beautifully crafted chairs that had been waxed and lacquered a beautiful shade. The carvings on the wood painstakingly detailed, including the family symbol on the back of each chair. A pair of cushions were left on the floor to accompany the chair if they chose.



For Azure and Olivia - a pair of hanging chairs for their room. Both designed differently and accompanied with feather down pillows for extra cushion.


[For Azure]


[For Olivia]

The little note that was presented on the seat of the chair was definitely Sylva's handwriting:
Thank you for everything.
Merry Christmas ♥
Don't worry I locked up after I left!
~Sylva


At the treehouse was Doran's gift, hanging just above the treehouse in a spot that was just perfect for watching the sun, be it setting or rising.




With all said and done, Sylva was in bed likely to be fast asleep for most of Christmas morning! Zzzzzzz

[Ebon Ilnaren]

At the time of the meeting at the library, Ebon was unable to attend, being in the Marketplace assisting in clearing the wreckage of what was once his favorite ice cream parlor. Pacarelli's was now an empty shell, gutted by flames and half-collapsed after a fiery explosion. One of the new Blackguard stood outside, explaining to Stefano Pacarelli in overwhelmingly condescending tones that gas lines can be pretty volatile. "If you'd just made sure you passed your inspections, this need not have happened. But you didn't, and it did."

The man's smugness was infuriating, and Stefano shook his fist. "Passed inspections? Pay the bribes, you mean! Feccia! Pezzo di immondizia!"

With a swift backhand, the Blackguard trooper sent the little man stumbling to the ground, before suddenly finding himself flying backwards to slam against a lamppost. "What the...?!" Scrambling to his feet, he saw Ebon standing between him and the Pacarellis, his face shrouded in the shadows of his hood. "You think you can take me, huh? This armor's proof against magic and ballistic weapons alike!"

"Really?" Lowering his hood, Ebon smirked at the man's bravado. "Well, first off... my abilities aren't magical. Secondly, is it proof against physics?" With that, pinpoints of light flashed in his dark eyes and telekinetic force gripped the trooper, launching him up, up, up into the atmosphere. Lifting his head, Ebon followed the man's course until he was well out of sight, before finally turning back to the devastated shop. Seconds later, a sound arose, faint at first but growing in volume. It was a mix of noises, an odd whistling mixed with a high-pitched scream. Townsfolk looked up, and then rushed to get out of the way as a black shape fell from the sky and slammed hard into the ground.

True to his boasting, the Blackguard trooper's armor had weathered the impact remarkably well. The body of the trooper inside, however, not so much. Blood seeped out and spread along the cracks in the pavement caused by the sudden and violent meeting of man and ground.

As he cleared rubble from the storefront, Ebon felt a vibration in the inner pocked of his tunic, and reached in to withdraw a small ID care with a stylized letter A that glowed red. "Hmmm." Pressing a spot on the card, he spoke softly. "DIANA, this is Black Knight. Who sent the call?"

"The summons came from Elpis."

So it was Rhi... she was at the meeting that Pharlen was holding. They must be expecting the troubles to get worse before they got better. He would have to visit his old stomping grounds to pledge the Governor whatever support he could. And, in the process, perhaps get a few old friends together again.

[Ebon Ilnaren]

Ebon and Phen brought the children of Stardreamer Manor down to the celebration. The older youths kept a watch on the younger ones, making sure that none went a-wandering by themselves, and everyone had a chance to see what they wanted to see. Olivia spent most of the day at the petting zoo, and delighted in showing the Gallows twins the baby goat that was just coming out in public for the first time, having been recently born notg long before. Azure took to the deck of the Mini Mate II, sitting with her feet dangling over the side as she sketched scenes that would inevitably become needlework designs at some point. She didn't talk much, but she smiled quite a lot.

[Doran Ilnaren]

Spending the day with Sylva was always a pleasure for Doran, but even more so when it was a festival day, and Children's Day was a festival of fun! They rode the ferris wheel a few times, and each time he pointed out some different landmark or she directed his attention to places she'd come to know from deliveries and such. Beyond that they walked along the midway, taking in carnival games until Doran managed to win her a big plush tiger to keep her and the kitten company back at the treehouse.

As the evening fell, they spent some time roaming the neighborhood, exploring little shops and finding quaint hideaways, before finally returning to the festival to dance and watch people.

[Ebon Ilnaren]

((tie-in to the Heart of the Dragon))

July 28th

Although he had been collecting essences since the Diamond Quest alongside Eregor--and between the two of them, they had gathered a small but significant collection--Ebon had not yet ventured among the treasure hoard from which so many had found such wonders.

Until now.

It was late, but the Isle was ever in twilight, and there was sufficient light to see. He rummaged carefully through the treasures. There was armor, solid breastplates and shirts of fine chain, but none called to him. Nor did any of the myriad baubles meant to be worn, pendants and medalions, rings or bracelets or charms to be carried. Eregor might do with something like that, he mused, but I'd prefer something more substantial. Although I should bring Phen to see this. The inspiration she would find might be... oh. He stopped short, spying something amid a collection of the finest blades. What... is... that?

Stepping forward, he gently shifted some of the swords aside, then reached down to lift that which had caught his attention. "You are exquisite." It was a blade of bright metal, slightly curved and a touch wider towards the tip before tapering to a lethal point--a scimitar. The hilt was wrapped in dark leather, with a slightly reddish hue, and as he carefully drew his thumb across the cutting edge, he could tell that it was most keen. "You are exquisite."

When he spoke, Ebon felt the slightest of vibrations through the scimitar's hilt, as though it was responding to the compliment. "Perhaps you were, at that. I think, my friend, that we were drawn together. Come, let's go home."



((original scimitar image from website for Jesse Belsky Stageswords - though Ebon's scimitar is not aluminum))

[Ebon Ilnaren]

August 1st

It was early in the morning when Ebon returned from the Red Dragon. The Manor was still, all the children were abed, even the treehouse at the wood’s edge was dark. Even Sylva and Doran are sleeping. How late is it? Entering his home, he made his way up the stairs and down the hall towards the room he shared with Phen.

She stirred as he entered, and when he lit the lamp, he could see the light reflected in her sapphire-blue eyes. Home at last. I was beginning to think you had abandoned me. Playful teasing, that; Phen and Ebon were forever bound, soul to soul, and through that bond each could always find the other. Kruger?

He was… troubled. I hope I helped him. Ebon crossed to join Phen in bed, sliding up alongside her to press against her back. She gave a soft, breathless sigh and reached to draw his hand across her body. The memories of his many craftings, a piece of each remaining with him. It must be hard.

Turning in his arms, Phen regarded her husband. There is a bond between crafter and craft, though the strength of it varies with the nature of the work. Even I, with my jewelry, have a place in my heart for every unique piece that I create. It’s not unlike the link between wielder and weapon. Surely that much you know.

A grin spread across Ebon's face at her gently chiding tone. I suppose so. Doran has his bonded spear, Eregor his rapier and dagger... even I have my bracers. One dark eyebrow arched elegantly. What brings on such talk as this, so late?

Her smile was innocent and mischievous all at once. I saw the blade you brought home from the Isle, and I know why you and Gory have been spending more time at the Outback of late. You have what's needed, but you haven't completed the work. Why not, love? The simple warm endearment was laced with concern for him. You're afraid you won't be able to do it. Her words were a statement, not a question. Pushing him onto his back, she lay her head upon his chest. You know, when I am starting a new project, especially something particularly ambitious... before I begin, I take the time I need to sit, and think, and get a feel for what I want to shape, to craft. Perhaps you should do the same. Find a quiet moment and attune yourself with the blade. You'll know, then, when you're ready to begin.

Ebon leaned in and kissed her forehead gently. You're right, of course.

I know I'm right. I'm glad you realize that. But Ebon? She raised a finger to his lips, before replacing it with her own. It will wait until morning.

# # #

Morning came after night, as it had since time immemorial. It being Sunday, the entire household had brunch together as was their tradition. Once the cleaning was done and all the dishes washed, dried, and put away, the children of Stardreamer Manor took their leisure as they would. A few seemed ready to ask their Pa to play, or read with them, but Phen and Doran gently steered them away, giving him the peace that he needed. Repairing to his study, Ebon shut the door, then crossed the room to take up the scimitar he had found in the dragon's hoard.

For some time he simply held it, slowly and carefully running one hand along the blade, feeling once more the faintest vibration of the weapon in hid hand. "You are more than you seem. I wonder...." Ebon's voice trailed off as he lowered himself to the floor, sitting with legs crossed in a meditative position, hands clasped at his waist holding the scimitar's hilt. He closed his eyes and slowly, deliberately, shut out all of the sensations that surrounded him.

The sounds of children playing outside, of animals in the fields and birds chirping as they flew, all fell silent in his mind.

The feel of the cool midday breeze through the open window stilled.

The scent of summer flowers, redolent with sweetness, and the lingering taste of his recent meal... those, too, were gone.

Even the ever-present sense of everything around him, above and below and behind him, faded.

All that remained was the touch of Phen's soul to his own, and even that grew quiet, though not gone. In the dark serenity of his consciousness, Ebon reached out, feeling a sense of motion that was not motion. Something was drawing him forward, and with his mind's eye he peered ahead, seeking whatever pulled at him. After a time he could not fathom--it might have been mere moments, or possibly an age of the world--he thought he heard the faintest whispering voice. Then something appeared in the black, as if at a great distance like a mirage, but as Ebon turned his attention to it, the image grew and resolved itself. A tongue of flame hung suspended amid the dark, and as he reached it, he heard the same voice as earlier, but louder, and clearer.

Abandoned. Alone. Forgotten. The voice seemed unaware of Ebon's presence.

Hello.

The reaction from the flame was sudden and immediate, as it surged towards him, growing until it was about the size of Ebon's own head, with vague features forming upon its surface. Yet though the fire seemed mere inches away, it did not sear his skin or blind his eyes. I am here! Are you real? Are you truly another, or merely a spark of madness to torment me? Speak!

Though he was not the empath that his sons were, Ebon could feel the surge of hope from the fiery presence, though behind it loomed the heavy weight of loneliness, despair, and insanity. I am real, my friend. My name is Ebon.

Ebon. Black as the shadow that surrounds us. It has been so long, so long since I touched another. Once I channeled power, great power, for good or ill, but then I was lost and forgotten, and so I forgot even myself, knowing only the black emptiness. Strength gone. No wielder. No purpose. Lost.

Unsure why, seeking only to comfort one who was so bereft, Ebon reached up to touch the flame, knowing somehow that it would not hurt him. When his fingers touched the fire, it began to shift and flow around his hand, extending and flattening until it took on the shape of the scimitar that Ebon had taken from the dragon hoard. Well now. You seem to have remembered yourself. Do you have a name?

I have had many throughout the ages, though I do not recall them. The name is the bond, you see, the thread that links me to my wielder. Will you name me, Ebon? Will you give me purpose once more?

I will. Ebon could feel a solemnity to the moment as he considered his next words. I shall wield you in dueling combat and in battle to defend those in need. I name you... Talon. At the utterance of that name, the flaming blade flared until its brightness filled all space around them. When it faded, Ebon found himself standing in his study, holding the scimitar as he had held its fiery avatar, and in his mind he heard that voice still.

I am your weapon, and you are my wielder. I am Talon.

[Ebon Ilnaren]

August 4th

As evening drew on and the summer sun approached the horizon, slowly but steadily, Ebon turned his steps towards the Outback. It was Wednesday, which meant fight night there, and he was due to meet up with Eregor and see if they could get a few duels in. The Time Lord was waiting at the corner and waved as Ebon approached. "Did you bring it?"

Smiling, Ebon held up Talon, sheathed in a leather scabbard he had commissioned from one of the young crafters at Sarengrave House. "Here." Drawing the scimitar, he held it up for his friend to examine. "What do you think?"

"I think it's perfect for you. Have you practiced much with it?"

In response, Ebon stepped back, making sure there was nobody around, and then launched into a series of attacks and parries, each move flowing gracefully into the next. Finishing with a crouching block, he rose and sheathed the blade once again. "Shall we?" He headed for the Outback's double doors, opened them, and stepped inside. The place was quiet, with only Jaycy and a new face there so far. The man, Basil, was seeking a duel, and Ebon obliged him.

It proved to be a tough match; despite being new to the intricacies in the Duel of Fists, Basil had a natural skill and Ebon only managed to scrape out a win by one point, 5-4. At the fight's end, he found essence of ShadowWeaver swirling at his feet, and gathered it up before following Basil out of the Pit where they'd fought. He crossed back to where Eregor was sitting, now joined by Rhi, and greeted the latter before lifting Talon, which he'd left in the Time Lord's care.

Not the Black. Talon's voice almost hissed in his mind.

"Hmm." Ebon regarded the blade for a moment. You don't like ShadoWeaver, eh? Well, I don't blame you. No worries. I have other plans for us.

The Flame?

Aye, the essence of FireStar. Between Eregor and myself, we've more than enough... now to find Ferghalicous, or one of his compatriots. Blade in hand, he went in search of one who might help him in completing the process and imbuing Talon with elemental strength.

Upon finding one, Ebon held out a selection of the essences he had collected. "Good sir, would you assist me in binding these?"

"I might, at that." The wizard looked barely awake, but his half-lidded eyes were bright. "With what would you see them bound?" At that, Ebon drew the scimitar from its sheath, and the mage opened his eyes fully to gaze at it. "A fine blade, that. Sir, it would be my pleasure." Taking the essences, he examined them. "Plenty of FireStar in here... does it," indicating the blade, "have a name?"

"Talon."

That brought the hint of a smile to the wizard's face. "Very well. Let Talon's flame be lit!" With his magic, he imbued the scimitar with the Red Opal's essence. "Take it, my friend."

As Ebon held up his weapon, he could hear it in his mind, jubilant. I am Talon. I am reborn!

[Azure Wayfinder]

The desert sun was beginning its descent towards evening when Azure came upon the oasis she sought, about two and a half days ride southwest from the city of Cadentia. "Almost there, Windhoof." The horse whinnied in relief, but then snorted and came to a halt, neighing as if in protest. "Something wrong?" Azure had long since learned to heed her steed's instincts for trouble.

Peering towards the oasis ahead, she swiftly realized that despite a wagon and tent in view above the green, there was no sign of activity. Dismounting, she took the quiver of enchanted javelins from the side of Windhoof's saddle and slung it across her back within easy reach, then drew both of her knives. "Come on." She advanced on foot, all senses alert for danger, as the stallion trod behind her, equally wary.

The oasis was centered around a spring of fresh, clean water, and bounded by scrub brush and desert trees. There was a large rocky bluff along the western side, and a camp site stretching from the eastern edge of the oasis pool around to the south. That was where the tent was erected, and there were signs of activity--footprints, remains of a fire now cooled to ash--but no sign of its occupants. Kneeling at the edge of the camp, Azure examined the signs.

"Camel tracks leading in, plenty of activity. Judging from the size of the tent, I figure a small group, three people, maybe four." She spoke aloud, ostensibly to Windhoof but more to frame her own thoughts. Moving along the shoreline, she spotted new signs. "Scramble here, lots of mixed prints in a jumble. Camels fled, heading east." Dropping to one knee, she reached down to pick up... "Sword. Something on it, not blood. Not from anything with a spine, at least. Scorpion, perhaps, or-"

Windhoof reared up, neighing in alarm and, hearing a skittering sound from the rocks, Azure looked that was. "Spider."

Indeed, a rather large spider had emerged atop the rocks and was scuttling down the bluff's face. It seemed unnatural, not simply for its size--which was considerable--but also for its almost ghostly coloration. Its many eyes spotted Azure, there was a ghastly sound, and then it rushed towards her.

And vanished.

Without taking her eyes from where it had been, Azure gave a sharp whistle. "Away, Windhoof!" The stallion turned and began putting distance between itself and the oasis, dashing east along the windswept camel trail.

The spider reappeared almost on top of her, its mandibles slicing at Azure, but she managed to slide away and raised her twin daggers to attack. One struck a glancing blow against the arachnid's chitinous hide, but the other aimed true and stabbedat its horrid face, cutting deep. With an inhuman hiss, the spider attacked again, and again Azure was able to evade its bite. Again it vanished, reappearing to strike again. This time the spider bit deep into Azure's side, and she couldn't help releasing a cry of pain as her blood burned from the creature's poison. Yet before it could release her, she stabbed deep. Ichor spilled as it gave a hissing screech and skittered backwards before disappearing once more.

Azure backpedaled as well, sheathing her daggers and drawing a javelin, waiting for a target. As she waited, she gingerly touched her side, wincing at the surge of pain, and expanded her awareness, reaching out with the psionic gift that was her birthright. Taking a bite of me was your mistake, creature. You cannot hide from me now.

In her mind's eye, she saw the phase spider moving through the ethereal, saw it preparing to pounce... and as it phased back into physical space, Azure turned and hurled her javelin directly between its two largest eyes. The weapon plunged deep into the arachnid's head, and it screeched one last time before stumbling back and collapsing, legs curling up as it died.

"Well... *nngh!* that was fun." Azure gave another piercing whistle before staggering over to a log by the cold firepit. Taking a vial from her belt pouch, she splashed some of its contents into the wound in her side and downed the rest as Windhoof reappeared, trotting to her side and lowering his head as she reached up to pat his cheek. "Good boy, you are. Go, take a drink, refresh yourself. I'll be along in a moment."

As the desert night fell, there was a fire at the campsite and another, larger pyre some distance away. Azure had found the spider's earlier victims, and would not leave their bodies to be molested by hyenas. Or worse.

So she paid silent homage as flames rose and embers drifted upwards to join the stars.

[Ebon Ilnaren]

The Arena - evening, 18 January 2022

Ebon was back in the Arena office, catching up on paperwork. The door, however, was open.

If Ebon was anything like she had been, he'd be in his office working some of the later hours; often, the sports positions and their tasks were best performed in odder times around their day jobs. She had asked to meet, too, so she wasn't entirely unaware of where he might be. Once she entered and descended the stairs to the (thankfully and expectedly) silent Arena, she only paused for a moment before making her way toward the offices.

Once she arrived at his, door open or no, she rapped on it. "It's Jaycy; may I come in?"

He looked up and smiled, setting the paperwork down and gesturing for her to come in. "Of course!" One hand gestured to the office's liquor cabinet. "Care for a glass?"

A soft laugh escaped as she stepped though the portal and shook her head. "As much as I would love some right now, it won't do anything fun and interesting for me and I'm not interested in it just for the taste. Besides, I don't plan to keep you that long." A beat. "May I close the door? There are no cameras and recording in here, aye?" Green-golds shifted about the office space, particularly to the corners.

He glanced past Jaycy to the door, which softly closed. "No cameras in here, no. What's on your mind?" One eyebrow arched a touch; he had a good idea of what she was there to discuss, but it never hurt to ask.

Peeking back at the door for a moment, she grinned. "Cheater." The laugh returned as she strode closer to the desk to take a seat. "Well, of course, first ... congratulations again for your fine showing and your win at the Archmage Tournament this past weekend." It was a good place to start, aye? And also hint as to the crux of conversation, even if she had an idea that it would flow somewhere else first.

"Thank you. I have to admit, I surprised myself that night." He had a mug of tea, and took a sip. "Then again, if Matthew can duel with his fists even on the Isle, and we've had Force users and high-tech types, so why not psionics?"

"Magic takes all shapes and forms, and there's no right or wrong way to cast it," she agreed philosophically, shrugging lightly before shifting in the seat to withdraw something from the front pocket of her jeans. Fingers remained curved around it until she leaned forward and dropped the smallish item on his desk, allowing it to tumble a few inches toward him. It was blue in color and crystalline, and seemed inert; hello, IceDancer.

"What do you know about these?" Perhaps, it seemed, she was including all of the Opals in her question. "I know you've not held one, but...."

"I know that they have wills of their own, and that alone has made me leery of holding one in the past." His expression darkened a shade. "It smelled too much of enslavement, and, having been a slave myself, I could not in conscience claim mastery over another." He took another sip of tea, holding the mug close to his face to breathe in the aroma for a moment. "I gather that since their reforming, they have more... agency, would you say?"

She offered a thoughtful nod at the conclusion of his summary. "Aye, you've the right of it on both ends. Some, however, sought them before the reformation either to keep them from the hands of those who would happily master them - and found themselves pawns of their schemes, because they still had some agency - or kept them as trinkets without ever making devils' bargains."

Jaycy paused, licking her lips as she pondered her next words. "Their agency - at least the two I've held - and ability since the reformation has indeed grown." A moment, then she added delicately. "... and sometimes in not the best ways." Her gaze ticked to the Opal before she explained, summarily, some of the recent actions IceDancer had taken.

"... so, mayhaps you see my conundrum as to being Archmage and why I'd consider just retiring it. And why I wanted to make sure it was a non-holder before I even thought about it."

"Hmmmmm. Yes, I do... if the Opal is subtle enough, they might get their hooks in even a strong-willed mind, and then... the power of the Celestial Tower." Ebon cocked his head to one side as he looked at Jaycy, and then down at IceDancer.

"But I don't wield an Opal." His dark eyes turned back to Jaycy. "Nor am I in any hurry to do so."