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The Tiger and the Dragon: Act 10, Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2023-01-04 06:08:00 +0000 UTC13th Day, Middle Wind Month, 1 CE
So like this, and then like this…
“You keep doing that one,” Mitra said. “What does it mean?”
“I’m not sure…”
Ilyshn’ish made the swiping motion again. The movement she was making was a low, horizontal swipe meant for slicing apart and knocking away opponents near the ground. She supposed it was a movement that felid Beastmen didn’t perform often. When felid Beastmen used their claws, it was generally at the end of an extension. This was because, like other felid species, their claws were not naturally used as slashing weapons, but as piercing ones.
For them, claws were used to hook surfaces, allowing one to easily grapple their prey and drag it down to inflict killing bites. Dragons, on the other hand, regularly employed slashing attacks with their claws. Their generally smaller prey didn’t need to be grappled, so their claws were weapons for dealing with deadly foes.
Though Humans saw Frost Dragons as huge apex predators, Frost Dragons saw themselves as small and vulnerable. And they were, compared to other Dragons. Even Frost Giants, while shorter, were much heavier as terrestrial creatures. As getting caught by an enemy five times one’s mass was generally a bad idea, a Frost Dragon’s natural tactics against dangerous foes minimised the amount of time in melee range.
Tail slaps, claw swipes, wing buffets and body slams were all used to create distance. Once distance was achieved, they employed their breath weapons if possible. If it wasn’t possible, they disengaged from combat and left, choosing to bide their time for more favourable opportunities to strike. They had forever to wait, after all.
Pouncing and grappling were reserved for ambushes and attacks against targets that a Frost Dragon decided were weak enough to directly take down. According to Hejinmal, both their father and half-brother came to the unfortunate, unfounded conclusion that the Sorcerer King was some sort of Elder Lich – and thus easily dispatched in melee combat – and paid for the error with their lives.
Fortunately, that error worked in the favour of the rest of the enclave, demonstrating the absolute futility of challenging the Sorcerer King. Except for poor Ilyshn’ish. All she could do was be wary around anything that resembled the ten-metre tall statues in front of E-Rantel’s southern gate, hoping that she wouldn’t anger it somehow.
She performed their low, horizontal swipe again, leaping back at the same time.
“Ah, I get it,” Mitra nodded. “It’s like striking at a cobra. Attempting to deal damage while avoiding counterstrikes. You must have some dangerous monsters like that where you live.”
“What’s a cobra?” Ilyshn’ish asked.
“It’s a type of venomous snake. They have a big hood that they spread out behind their heads.”
Ilyshn’ish tried to think of anything resembling what Mitra described.
“We don’t have snakes like that,” she said after a moment, “but we do have Polar Worms.”
“Polar Worms…as in Ice Worms? The ones with backs that get crazy hot?”
“Yes, those. Even small ones can be dangerous.”
Mitra made a face.
“Bleah, they don’t taste very good. Their insectoid faces creep me out, too. We ran into a couple of them in the Worldspine a few months ago.”
“I’ve only seen the westernmost peaks from a distance,” Ilyshn’ish said. “Do you know what else lives there?”
“Not really,” Mitra replied. “In terms of Demihumans and Heteromorphs, the only species we saw while we were there was Yeti. They’re a sort of ape Beastman that’s about as tall as you are, but much bulkier. They’re delicious though – they’ve got thick layers of fat and muscle under their shaggy hides.”
That did sound appealing. The Beastmen in Rol’en’gorek mostly fed on Nug and fish, with the occasional bird and monkey on the side. Maybe she would head to the Worldspine and try some Yeti when she got bored of the local fare.
Ilyshn’ish repeated the swiping notion. What was she doing again?
“So how do I turn this into a dance…thing?”
“Mmh…in mundane terms, it’s a disengage. Stuff like that usually buys time to continue weaving a Dance or prevent it from being interrupted. But there’s an attack in there as well, so it might be able to add something to the composition.”
Musically speaking, movements that led to and produced an offensive result were akin to notes, while defensive movements were akin to rests. If there were too many rests, the composition ended. As such, Dancing encouraged a Dancer to remain on the offensive. Of course, all movements in a Dance had to be enacted as ‘steps’ of that Dance to it, which was where Ilyshn’ish was currently stuck.
“Nothing is happening from my moving around,” Ilyshn’ish said.
“You don’t even feel a little bit?” Mitra asked.
“I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to feel,” Ilyshn’ish answered.
“Don’t worry, you’ll know the moment it happens. I was like that too at the start. It was frustrating, but once I started producing results, I got so excited that I couldn’t stop trying to figure more stuff out.”
“Martial Arts are like that, too,” Kasturi said from nearby.
“That depends on how people train,” Saraca noted. “Singular drills lead warriors to grasp a particular Martial Art quickly, but they get stuck after that. Proper development of Martial Arts needs the big picture to conceptualise. Training randomly doesn’t get one anywhere.”
“We’re not training randomly,” Mitra snarled. “She memorised all 108 Karana at a stupidly fast pace, but it didn’t do anything. The cultural background just doesn’t exist to make it work. It has to be something that has the same level of significance to her.”
The culture with the deepest significance to Ilyshn’ish was, of course, Draconic culture, but she couldn’t go and say that outright. It wasn’t as if there was anyone related to Dragons present anyway. Because of this, she was trying to sneakily figure out how to produce ‘notes’ with Mitra’s input on the various things she tried.
“The culture of the Krkonoše is very different from most,” Karuvaki said. “They have no mythology, only history. Their social structure is nothing like ours. Their naturalistic perspective is very close to our dharmic ones, but there’s no extraordinary significance attached to it. It just is. It’s no small wonder that our ways don’t translate well to theirs. Brute forcing conceptualisation through repetition may be the only way.”
“No, it’s ultimately more productive to take the holistic approach,” Saraca said. “Forcing one or two ‘Karana’ of her own won’t enable her to weave anything but the most simple of Dances, if even that. Dancers need the freedom to perform at will because battlefields are a dynamic stage.”
Mitra let out a sigh, settling down on her haunches.
“Let’s take a break,” she said. “I think we’re going off track.”
Ilyshn’ish wasn’t sure how they were off track, but she did want to do a few other things. The sound of the clanhold’s renovations continually drifted up from the terrace below and she was curious to see what had changed. There was also the matter of the city, which she had barely seen anything of since her arrival.
“When would you like to get together again?” Ilyshn'ish asked.
“Three hours?” Mitra answered, “I just wanted to think about what to do and take a nap.”
It wasn’t enough time to go out and explore the city. Unlike Human cities, those in Rol’en’gorek were spread out over a vast area. Buildings were constructed as part of the natural landscape of the jungle rather than raised after the land was cleared. The result was a cityscape that melded into the trees and canopy, embracing the many rivers flowing into the huge lake nearby.
If she were to compare their approach to urban development, Ilyshn’ish heavily favoured the way that the Beastmen did things. Maybe she could get Nemel to do something similar.
Ilyshn’ish thanked Mitra for her instruction before leaving the central courtyard. She followed the sound of metal tools striking stone, which led her to the southern edge of the upper terrace. Several metres below, a twenty-metre stretch of the terrace had been cleared of soil and vegetation, exposing the stone beneath. Two teams of masons were cutting out basalt blocks while a group of Ocelo waited to haul them away.
She hopped down to join the Ocelo by the name of ‘Xoc’, who stood beside a short, dark-haired Human who supposedly once worked as the master of the Rivergarden Merchant Guild in the Draconic Kingdom. On the other side of her was an Ocelo adorned as a mystic.
“You’re opening a quarry?” Ilyshn’ish asked.
Both the Ocelo and the Human started at her question.
“Wh-where did you come from?” Xoc asked.
Ilyshn’ish pointed a claw upward. Their gazes followed the gesture to the terrace above.
“You jumped down?” Xoc furrowed her brow, “But I didn’t even notice you land.”
“Sorry, it’s a habit.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” Xoc said. “Everyone does that here. It’s just that most people can be noticed once they get close enough, never mind doing stuff like that.”
“Well, I am an expert hunter.”
“…I thought you were a Bard. Are you a Bard, or a hunter?”
“Yes.”
Xoc looked up at her in confusion. Was it so difficult to grasp?
“Are Bards in Rol’en’gorek incapable of hunting?” Ilyshn’ish asked.
“I guess there shouldn’t be any reason why they can’t,” Xoc answered, “but I usually see them perform for their meals. Bards are always highly placed in the clans, so they don’t have to do anything like hunting.”
“You don’t have any of your own?”
“We haven’t been a clan for a long time. Everything and everyone is scattered and I have no clue where most of the pieces went. Maybe when we get stronger, we’ll have some Bards come to us.”
It wasn’t surprising that Mitra wanted to chronicle what was going on here. If she didn’t, no one would and the tale of Xoc’s people would be lost to history. The Nar Dancer always framed it in a lighthearted way, but it was a matter of utmost importance to Bards.
“Does your clan have a name?” Ilyshn’ish asked.
“Pa’chan.”
“The Pa’chan Clan…” Ilyshn’ish mouthed the distinct sounds, “What does it mean?”
“I…I’m not sure,” Xoc admitted.
“It means ‘Broken Sky’,” the mystic beside Xoc spoke up. “That’s not a common question, but I suppose a Bard would be interested in that sort of thing.”
“I’m trying to puzzle out the language here,” Ilyshn’ish nodded. “It appears that each race has its contributions to a common tongue, but the old tongues are still in use despite no written word.”
One might assume that, if there was no script to define language, all language would eventually homogenise due to the way it was conveniently translated between groups of people. However, it appeared that unique languages remained even in places where many languages mingled.
“Parents teach their children how to speak, after all,” the mystic said.
“So does that mean if a Nar family raises an Ocelo child, that child would speak the local Nar language?”
“Yes, of course. The other species would have trouble doing the same, however.”
According to Mitra, both Nar and Ocelo spoke a dialect of the Prusteni language family – as did the felid Krkonoše. What made the dialects part of the same language family were not specific words, but sounds that other felid Beastmen couldn’t produce. The sounds delivered emotion as much as they delivered defined meanings, and it was beyond the ability of the world’s translation mechanisms to convey appropriately.
“And Rol’en’gorek,” Ilyshn’ish said, “I believe this is Nar?”
“That’s right.”
“Why is the term used to refer to your homeland in a single race’s language? Shouldn’t it be something derived from your common tongue?”
“That’s because the Nar are the most prominent species here,” Xoc grumbled. “Being big and strong counts for a lot in Rol’en’gorek.”
Ilyshn’ish nodded slowly. Being big and strong counted for a lot in many places. It was just the way things were.
“Do you resent that fact?” Ilyshn’ish asked.
“Of course!” Xoc answered, “It just makes smaller people feel like lessers. Actually, it’s weird – you Krkonoše don’t do it. You’re way bigger than the rest of us, but you’re so polite. Vltava is sort of scary, though. The big races here don’t offer any consideration for the smaller ones. We just have to get out of the way or get stepped on.”
A pair of Ocelo made their way past, carrying a dark grey block of basalt between them on a crude wooden stretcher. The vibrations from the continued work of the Masons constantly defined the details of the hill below Ilyshn’ish. Numerous channels of soft earth in the stone drew her attention, but she wasn’t sure how to ask about them.
“So this quarry…”
“It’s more like a temporary quarry,” Master Leeds said. “We’re increasing the height between terraces as part of the clanhold’s renovations. The blocks they’re cutting out will go towards new housing for everyone.”
“What about the, erm…plumbing?”
“Plumbing?” Master Leeds frowned, “I guess we’ll have to address that at some point, but–”
“I meant the existing plumbing,” Ilyshn’ish said. “This is an old clanhold, yes? If you go to the central plaza, you’ll see the main water source and the channels that bring water to the rest of the complex.”
The guildmaster’s frown deepened. He leaned over and called down to one of the Masons.
“Did you see anything like that?”
“Like what?” The Mason replied.
“Winter Moon here says there’s some sort of plumbing system already installed. See anything like a sewer?”
“Uh…no?”
After a moment, the Mason came up to join them.
“Where’d you see this?” He asked her.
In response, Ilyshn’ish picked up the man, cradling him in her arms. He let out a startled shout as she leapt to the top terrace. She set him back down and led him along the edge, further east to where one of the major channels ran out from the central plaza. The Mason knelt, brushing away the layer of dirt and leaves with a gloved hand.
“This is…an aqueduct? We couldn’t see it from below. And there’s a water source for this?”
“There was,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “I’m not sure if it can be restored, but the infrastructure is still there.”
“Is it mechanical, or magical?”
“It’s broken.”
The Mason rose to his feet again, frowning down at the exposed stone.
“We’ll have to take a closer look at this,” he said. “If someone’s already figured out how to do the plumbing for this place, it’d be best to find out why they did what they did.”
Ilyshn’ish returned with the Mason, and the mystic gave her an appraising look.
“It seems you have an eye for history,” he said. “Our people live here and don’t notice what you do.”
“Don’t all Bards have an eye for history?” Ilyshn’ish replied.
“Recent history, perhaps,” the mystic sighed. “It’s what earns them a living, after all. I only wish we had Bards like you who worked to preserve the more distant past.”
“How distant are you talking about?”
“Our known history begins with the Demon Gods,” the mystic said. “What came before is lost to us.”
“Are you certain about that?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “I hear and see traces of the distant past everywhere I’ve been. History is not only in tales passed down from generation to generation: it can be found in the names, language and customs of your people. For instance, Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr is the name of this city, but your cities are named after clans and there is no ‘Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr Clan’. ‘Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr’ may be only one syllable, but I sense there are many meanings layered within. Would you happen to know any of those meanings?”
The mystic’s gaze turned inward as he pondered her question.
“There is only one meaning that I can recall that might be considered complete,” he said. “Shimmering Crystal Palace of the Water Goddess. Or maybe it’s ‘Water Spirit’ instead of ‘Water Goddess’? The meaning is close to the same, either way. All of the other meanings attached to the various parts of the name are related.”
“And is there anything like that here that would have the local tribes call it by that name?”
“Not at all,” the mystic said. “Now that you mention it, it is strange. Perhaps it required an outside perspective to see something that we always considered normal. Not that many people outside of us mystics know what it means.”
Did it mean that it had something to do with their religious practices? Either way, it was a promising link to a past that they had forgotten.
A Human approached from behind them, waving a hand in greeting. Ilyshn’ish wasn’t sure why they did that when the recipient couldn’t see the gesture.
“Master Leeds,” the man said. “How are things going here?”
“It’s as you can see,” Master Leeds said. “We just got done surveying this stretch and clearing away the topsoil.”
“Find any ore? We’re just about done smelting what we have.”
“No loose samples nor any veins,” Master Leeds shook his head.
If the terrain of the clanhold was artificial, would there be any veins of ore? She didn’t smell anything out of the ordinary.
“Did you find ore here previously?” Ilyshn’ish asked.
“We sort of walked over the area and picked up bits and pieces,” the man replied. “It’s in line with our expectations for a basalt formation.”
“What about the veins themselves?”
“Nothing on the surface, but we did find a few in the suites of the inn below. There’s plenty of iron and copper to be had, plus gemstones here and there.”
It didn’t explain why they’d find ore samples on top of the built-over area. One would be just as likely to find an ore sample just sitting on a street in E-Rantel.
The man sifted through the piles of debris brought up from the growing quarry. After finding nothing, he shrugged to himself and approached Xoc.
“Lady Xoc,” he said, “since we’re out of things to smelt, we’d like to get started on tool production. The plan’s to make spare sets of smithing, masonry and carpentry equipment before getting started on machines for textiles. We okay to go ahead with that?”
Xoc looked at Master Leeds, who nodded in return.
“The city only imports jewellery-quality materials,” he said, “so we’re out of ore to refine until we hit veins in this hill or secure imports from somewhere. We’ve got plenty of time to focus on tool production.”
“Great,” the man said. “We’ve got a lot of itchy Ocelo tailors who want to join in on the fun. I’ll pass the word along.”
Ilyshn’ish watched the man stroll off. It had only been a few days since their arrival, yet he now looked completely at ease walking through streets lined with Beastmen. Her gaze turned to Xoc, wondering if the effects of a Beastman Lord worked on Humans. Since the effects of an Undead Lord – or whatever Lady Zahradnik counted as – worked on everyone in her territory, it seemed entirely plausible.
“Wh-what is it?” Xoc asked.
“You seem to be slipping into your role as a Lord rather well,” Ilyshn’ish said.
The Ocelo seemed to brighten, though her tail and posture became bashful at the same time.
“Hehe, really? I feel like I’m being buried in all sorts of new stuff, but I guess things are moving along. Honestly, it all seems surreal. Like a dream that I’m being dragged along in.”
“How do Lords work in Rol’en’gorek, anyway?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “From what I’ve seen so far, it’s just the strongest people on top of everyone else.”
“Well, you have to be strong to defend your territory against raids, Monsters and Magical Beasts. The Lords all around the border are Lords of warrior clans. The ones in the interior are mostly civilian clans. Ghrkhor’storof’hekheralhr doesn’t have any presiding clans, though. The Lords that you might see here are the powerful Lords from elsewhere getting together to do important things.”
“People won’t have a problem with you re-establishing your clan here?”
“I don’t know, to be honest. This area is our ancestral land, so I don’t think anyone can say we have no right to do so.”
“Hmm…from what I’ve seen in my travels, people in power tend to want to maintain the status quo. There may not be any ruling clans here, but I’m sure there are interests that would act in a similar fashion.”
“Girika did warn you about the less-than-savoury elements of the city, Lady Xoc,” Master Leeds said. “Dealing with petty crime is a constant thing. Also, you never know how people will act until something that they consider important is threatened.”
“I’m not threatening anyone, though.”
“Well, in this case, your nascent industries are the most likely threat. More efficient industries and a better-trained workforce mean cheaper and better goods. Undercutting the competition threatens their livelihoods. People tend to react badly to that.”
“Is that why Devi suggested that strategy?”
“Pretty much. Going all out with manufactured goods will likely have the entire city at our throats. It’s better to produce intermediary goods so the competition sees us as a source of cheap materials rather than a threat to their livelihood. We can ramp things up when you feel that the clan’s strong enough.”
The two seemed caught up in their own thing, so Ilyshn’ish wandered off. She walked around the edge of the terrace, wondering about what the man requesting ores said. Veins of ore and gemstones didn’t appear in artificial structures unless they were left there on purpose, so there was probably an exposed rock face somewhere on the hill that wasn’t built over.
About halfway around the northern part of the second terrace, she found what she was looking for. The form that it came in, however, was entirely unexpected.
What in the world…?
Rather than an outcropping sticking out of the ruins, there was simply an area that was absent of any ruins. Her Blindsight revealed areas filled with soft earth, which resembled a trail of clawed footprints gouged from the stone. She instinctively looked around, as if whatever dangerous thing had made them would suddenly show itself.
“Wint–”
“GYAAAH!”
Ilyshn’ish looked down from the branch she had leapt up to, which was twenty metres above the jungle floor. The Nar Dancer looked up at her in amusement, covering her maw with a paw.
“Sorry,” she said.
“I thought you were taking a nap!” Ilyshn’ish cried.
“I was, but then I came up with an idea and had to talk about it right away. What are you doing here, anyway?”
She dropped back down to the broken street, patting down her raised fur.
“This part of the terrace is damaged,” she said.
“I can see that,” Mitra nodded, “but a lot of stuff is damaged everywhere.”
“Well, one moment…”
Ilyshn’ish climbed up the ramp of dirt to where it joined with the upper terrace. Her felid Krkonoše appearance didn’t confer the burrowing ability of Frost Dragons, but she was still able to expose the stone within a few minutes. With most of the dirt out of the way, one of the huge gouges she had detected with her Blindsight was plain for all to see.
“Yikes,” Mitra said. “What did this? An Ancient Red Dragon?”
“If I were to guess,” Ilyshn’ish said, “the same thing that turned this place into a ruin.”
“So a ‘Demon God’…but how did you detect this?”
“Felid Krkonoše are natural Rangers,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “This is a ‘track’ – a glaringly obvious one, to my senses.”
“Wow, I’m so jealous,” Mitra said. “All we Nar have is brute strength and some stalking ability. Can you find more of this trail? Maybe it’ll lead somewhere.”
Ilyshn’ish gestured to the ‘gully’ carved through the destroyed terraces below.
“That’s probably its trail,” she said. “It came up from the north to destroy the top terrace. What does local legend say about the Demon Gods that appeared here? What sorts of creatures were they?”
“Um, something invisible – maybe an Air Elemental? There was a fire creature too. Something else swam up the river destroying all of the cities along the way. There’s an old dam down below that was made of enchanted stone, so we’re guessing that whatever wrecked this place was at least as strong as I am.”
She could never land any hits on Mitra while they were sparring, so that was extraordinarily powerful by the measures of the local Beastmen. If the local Beastmen were as strong as the Beastmen of the past, they had absolutely no chance.
“Do you know if there was a Dragon Lord here before that time?” Ilyshn’ish asked, “It feels strange that there isn’t.”
“It is, and it isn’t,” Mitra replied. “How much do you know about The Eight?”
“The Eight?” Ilyshn’ish furrowed her brow, “Do they go by another name? Or would there be some tale that I’m familiar with?”
“Uh…they conquered the world about five hundred years ago.”
“Ah, those people. They’re known as the Eight Greed Kings where I’m from. Let’s see…aside from conquering the world, they’re locally known for banishing Surshana, the last of the Six Great Gods of the Slane Theocracy.”
The tale of the Eight Greed Kings was a consistently pervasive legend in the region amongst the Humans. Strangely so, considering that few of the non-Human species in the area had even the slightest inkling of their existence.
“Do you know about any descendants of the Eight Greed Kings in the Great Forest of Evasha?” Mitra asked.
“No,” Ilyshn’ish shook her head. “Little is known about the Great Forest of Evasha. The Theocracy is at war with the Elves and no one in the north knows much about what’s going on. Elven war prisoners are occasionally sold as slaves in the Empire, so securing one of them might provide you with the information you’re looking for.”
“Drat. That’s something we’re pretty wary of. The Eight were extraordinarily powerful entities. They’re gone now, but they left a whole bunch of ridiculously powerful kids behind around the world.”
“But what does that have to do with Dragons?”
“The kids? Probably very little. But The Eight fought a war with the Dragon Lords of old, and most of the Dragons were wiped out. The Eight also did something that changed the world which also changed every species forever. That includes Dragons, and that’s what started the war. “
The Eight Greed Kings changed the world? Were they the source of the brokenness that she felt everywhere? It was something that demanded careful investigation.
“Nearly all of the Dragons you see today aren’t the same as the Dragons from before that time,” Mitra continued, “and the new Dragons that might have lived here back during the time of the Demon Gods would have been three hundred years old, at best.”
“Which means they wouldn’t have been strong enough to resist the Demon Gods.”
“Yep, pretty much.”
Vltava had mentioned that part, and Ilyshn’ish’s parents had fled to escape them. The Demon Gods had appeared during a convenient window of opportunity. If they had come later, they wouldn’t have been able to do remotely as much damage as they had.
“Maybe I can find more clues about the Demon Gods around the city,” Ilyshn’ish said. “By the way, what was the idea that you wanted to talk to me about?”
Mitra stared at her for a moment before putting on an innocent expression.
“Sorry,” she placed her paws atop her head. “I forgot.”
Comments
Zarik0
I'm more 30-40 max, 45 seem a bit high, also yes Mitra dodging everything is "easy" its a spar, not a fight, they focused to each other and attacking each other in turn or whatever, and + veteran dancer vs someone who don't master her class advantage or ability as a dancer, find it normal she don't manage to land hit vs a dancer focused in defense and dodge who is close to her level and way more experienced in humanoid fight and martial art and dancer, she have more mastery and refined ability/martial art of her country
Noah Swan
Don't put too much stock in our dragon not being able to land a hit. Mitra doesn't have to be significantly higher level to out maneuver a dragon in a body she has hand for under a month with very limited martial training in a bipedal frame... Mitra sounded like she was practicing the vast majority of her life too. You wouldn't expect an office worker to out box Mike Tyson for example. All of them are going to be weaker than our chibi vampire land fall and way behind the Pleiades. I'd say a range of ~35-~45 for Saraca and his wives.
L
Anybody got any speculation on what level Saraca group is ? From the Empire In Chains Afterword Ilyshn’ish is level 37. So her not being able to land a blow on Mitra is pretty impressive. Summon Monster V is a tier 5 spell, so that would put Karuvaki at least 29+. Possibly as high as sixth tier ? (If we assume that she's not using her best spells) Completely baseless speculation: Saraca: 45~ (Similar to 10th seat of the black scripture) Mitra: 40 Everyone named character: 30~ Guards: 25~
Nodon667
“Is it mechanical, or magical?” “It’s broken.” as always Ilyshn’ish is the greatest source of comedy
