The Swan King

The Swan Prince has become the Swan King, as his father has retired with his mother to an extravagant hunting lodge in the mountains. Darthon always knew running a kingdom wouldn't be easy, but he hoped it wouldn't be this stressful. Avis has become an empire of business and is quite civilized, no longer the simple country of farmers and thatch-roof villages his father ruled. Its rapid development is due to distant countries finding its ports valuable as a way of trading with richer countries inland, and the kingdom must now be ruled with diplomacy, no longer impressive jousts, long hunts in early mornings, and villager unrest can not be quelled by burning down houses.
Darthon has some comforts. One of his advisors is the most powerful witch in the kingdom, and she commands a respect Darthon has yet to gain from his people. She is a good witch, but Darthon still fears her. It was a sorcerer very like her who cursed his mother into the shape of a swan. Though she recovered from it, residual magic of the curse seeped deep into her being, and is responsible for Darthon being born...deformed.
That is what they say about his wings. Massive white things, each one fifteen feet long. Too long--they drag on the floor when he walks, and cause him anxiety at night if he sleeps on either of them--a primitive fear of not being able to escape danger.
If they were at least on his back, then Darthon would have been hailed as an angel. But alas, the wings instead replace his arms. Thus, Darthon is regarded as a freak by his relatives, the only ones that know, and must go about his life draped in long, heavy cloaks to conceal his oddity. His wings are clipped and confined by the cloth, and similar to sleeping on them, it has caused him anxiety and panic attacks for most of his life. His only brief reprieve was for a short time in his childhood when he met and played with a street girl, Ilsar. She convinced him to let his feathers grow and tried to teach him to fly. He almost made it--but then Ilsar disappeared. He never heard from her again, and Darthon clipped his feathers and went back to his confining cloaks.
Now, twelve years later, Darthon meets her again in Avis's den of thieves. Captured by the thief king, rendered helpless with his bodyguards lost in the sewer tunnels, Darthon's future looks bleak. But it turns out the thief king's future is even bleaker as Ilsar drops from the ceiling and plunges a dagger into the man's head.
Having claimed the throne of thieves, Ilsar negotiates a peace with Darthon that deeply unnerves him--she, a streetrat, handles dealings better than he, a born and raised prince. And she's much colder than the boisterous, passionate street girl he knew in his childhood.
What happened to Ilsar? What made her disappear? What changed her? What made her so...frightening? And why can't Darthon stop thinking about her?
A swan and a rat could never be together. Can a thief and a king do any better?

Death's Head

The year is 3166, the place is the NCD.
The murders are vicious.
There are currently two major serial killers at large in the dome. One is a pedophile of horrific proportion: he captures children off the streets, violates them, and desecrates their bodies.
The other is a vigilante of sadistic intention. They target rapists, occasionally pedophiles, and torture them to death, leaving messages carved into walls and stained with blood.
The opposing nature of these two villains is a part of what makes them both famous. One is cheered, one is feared. Their vicious methods is another. Some predict that the vigilante will hunt down the pedophile. Others say the pedophile will be the one to win. No one has any idea who they are.
Life is difficult for Ramone. He lives just at the cusp of the lower levels--high enough that his family is still considered middle-class, but low enough that he has to wear a gas mask outside--and low enough for it to be dangerous for fems.
Ramone has lived his entire life on this level. He's seen what happens to fems when they're discovered--in highschool, they're dealt with particularly harshly. But Ramone can't help himself. His feminine wardrobe is restricted mostly to a few pairs of panties and one bra he stole from a store. He keeps them hidden in a box under his bed and wears them under his clothes to school.
Alois(German, "famous warrior") has no view of herself. The public calls her a crusader, a vigilante , an exacting force of justice. But to Alois, she's just doing what she has to do. She has to hunt down these men and kill them viciously. Not to make the world safer. Not to satisfy some sick need to see others pain--though that is part of it. But because she was locked in the basement and raped by her father until she was ten, and she killed him. She punched him in the throat, got something sharp, and stabbed until he stopped breathing.
She was put into foster care, and through a therapy group she discovered one of the victims' rapist was getting out of prison early. She hunted him down and killed him, but this time she drew it out. She wanted to make him understand the emotional and physical pain of a rape victim. He lasted for two days. That was only the beginning. Alois had discovered she enjoyed making rapists scream.
Alois has been bounced from home to home all her life. She doesn't misbehave or act out. People just can't stand her dead-eyed silences for long. Now, she's living as a liberated minor, on her own. She's moved down to the 58th level because that's all she can afford. She has a job at an arms store where the proprietor sells guns and knives. She attends a local public highschool.
She's killed eight men. The police have found six. She's hungry for more.
Alois has never had a relationship. She doesn't want one.
Ramone changes that.
Alois could be described as a man-hater. She's definitely prejudiced at the least. But when she sees a few members from Ramone's brother's gang beating on him behind school after they discovered the bra under his shirt, she steps in. Not to save a man. But because any opportunity to hurt one is a good one.
Now Ramone won't leave her alone, because he's afraid to be alone. His secret is out now, and the new girl emanates a curious, foreboding air. People are afraid of her, even if she is a masc. On this level, mascs meet almost as much prejudice as fems. The difference is that Alois is from a level where the operations and steroids are cheap. She's as tall and strong as any eighteen year old boy, and in addition she works out regularly, attends self-defense classes, knows how to handle a knife, and is learning how to use a gun. People don't mess with her. They go their way, she goes hers.
The serial killing pedophile is a teacher at their highschool.
Despite her attempts to dissuade him, Ramone stays close to Alois, and they begin to bond. When Ramone's home is no longer safe for him--his brother discovers he's fem and essentially beats him up and kicks him out--he goes to Alois, and to both their surprise, she lets him stay with her.
When their Health Science teacher touches Ramone in the bathroom, Alois sets her sights on a new target.

Ramone took a deep breath.
"...Alois?"
She barely heard his voice as she ran the sink water over her hands. She turned the tap off and turned to see him standing in the hallway, hesitantly working his hands. He seemed afraid.
For a second her heart stopped--could he see it in her face? She knew something happened, something changed, when she was with her victims. She could feel her eyes turn hard, like little pebbles slick with ice.
"Yes?" she asked quietly, gazing steadily at him, trying to think friendly, fluffy thoughts.
"I...something happened, I think," he said. "At school. I...I don't know what..." A small spasm of anxiety flickered through his body. He looked sick. "I don't know what to do."
Alois felt everything inside her go still. She knew that exact expression, that feeling. Horrible, horrible wrongness.
"What happened."
"The bathroom," Ramone said softly. "Mr. Alvin followed me in. I thought...I mean I didn't think about it, but then he started talking to me about--me being fem, and then he--um--"
"Tell me," Alois said softly. "You can tell me."
"He put his hand on my back, low, and then--I think he touched, my...you know, my backside." He flushed at the juvenile word. It was an odd contrast in a face that was so desperately pale.
"Are you sure?" Alois asked gently.
"I didn't imagine it!" Ramone said defensively.
"I'm not saying you did. I just wanted to know if you were sure."
"What...God, what do I...do?" he asked. He was shaking now.
Alois had never felt the urge to hold a man. She'd never wanted to hold anyone. And for a sick second, she felt a horrible hatred, a brief, intense disgust--by God, quit shaking like that, if you're so worried fucking do something about it--but he wasn't like her. No one was like her. No one else was strong in the sick, awful way she was. Ramone was a delicate sparrow--flighty, flickering, ultimately helpless.
He needed her to protect him.
A deep change came over her, rolling in such a powerful wave that her mouth went dry and breath vanished from her lungs. There was another side to the coin of man Alois had never seen before. Before her actions against them had always been dealt out with a severe emptiness, or an exacting hatred. Now...there was something deeply fulfilling and clean about the way she felt now.
"Come here," she said softly, beckoning him. Ramone obeyed, timidly, stepping into the bathroom. "It'll be alright," she murmured, and awkwardly reached out her arms.
Ramone leapt into the embrace with an eagerness that surprised her. Alois had never wanted to hug anyone before, but what made this strange was that she'd never expected anyone to want to hug her back.
He was shaking like a leaf in the wind. It made Alois hold him tighter, and he pressed his face into her shoulder, taking long, shuddering breaths. He was trying not to cry.
"I'll take care of it," Alois said quietly. "I'll...take care of you."

Alois threatens the teacher to stay away from Ramone, but even then she feels like something's off. The man isn't quite right when she puts the knife against his eyelid. The fear doesn't fill his eyes like it should. He should be terrified at the sight of the blood-spattered gas mask with the hackneyed stitching and the painted-on skull. The others were. The others recognized her. He recognized her.
Mr. Alvin is a very sick man. In the head. And if the (insert Alois's serial killer name here) wants a fight, he's happy to bring it.
The killings are beginning to escalate, and Alois finally snaps. Her killings change--she's targeting people with the intention of tracking down the pedophile serial killer. SHe's on the hunt. Meanwhile, her feelings for Ramone are reaching a level she's never encountered. She begins to contemplate what would happen if he found out.
This last one. That's what she promises herself. She will kill the serial pedophile, and then put up her knives and her fishooks and vanish quietly into the night. She will never tell Ramone.
But then one of her victims nearly gets the better of her, and Alois comes home with a stab wound in her side, her death mask on her face. She killed the man despite it, but now her blood is at a crime scene.
Either that or she's torturing a guy in the basement and Ramone comes down and sees it.
He stitches her up, horror on his face. He knows now. Everyone knows the death mask, ever since Alois performed her routine on a man in front of one of his victims. The surviving witness, a woman in her late twenties, provided the police with the description.
"Tell me you aren't the Death's Head," Ramone whispered when he'd finished, sitting down across from her. "Tell me you're just a normal teenager."
Alois raised her head and looked at him. She looked at him with a deep sadness and a terrifying fire in her eyes.
"I killed those men," she said. "I made them scream themselves to death. And I enjoyed it."
The world spun and he couldn't breath. Ramone gripped the table, his fingers slippery with her blood. He made himself breath. He kept himself from throwing up.
And suddenly he remembered how she'd held him when he'd told her about Mr. Alvin. How warm and strong she'd been. How...genuinely kind.
Maybe she was this person, but this person wasn't all she was.
"How...how long..."
"I killed my dad. He raped me for two years. I killed him with a piece of metal. I was ten."
Eight years. Two years. Ten years old. Her own father.
God. Ramone inhaled.
"How...many?"
Alois shifted in her seat, looking off somewhere. Calculating. Not the number, but how much she would tell him.
"Don't lie to me," he suddenly said forcefully. She blinked at him in surprise.
"A minute ago you wanted me to."
"Well, now you're telling me the truth." Ramone inhaled again, twisting his fingers in his jeans. "So...tell me the truth."
"...Eight."
Confusion flickered over his face. She could see him reviewing the news reports in his mind. She saved him the trouble.
"They've only found six. They won't find the last two."
"Last?" Some odd note of hope in his voice. He had the wrong idea.
"The most recent. Not the last ones I'll kill."
The colour died in his face. Ramone inhaled.
"You're going to do it again."
"I did it tonight." She gestured to her side.
Ramone threw up.

He made it to the sink. Alois watched him from her chair at the table. She curled her fingers into her hands, struggling with herself. She wanted to get up and hold him, brush the hair out of his face.
She didn't know what she'd do if he pushed her away.
Her body made the decision for her. It got up and walked over and carefully laid a hand on his shoulder.
Ramone flinched. Alois felt a knife twisting inside her.
"I..." There was nothing she could say.
"Why?" he finally gasped, his body shuddering. "God, why?"
"Because I have to."
"Why?!"
"I don't know."
"How do you not know?!" He turned to stare, or glare up at her. "How do you decide to--to vacking murder someone, to torture them, and not know why you're doing it?"
Alois was silent, staring at him. She was working for an answer. He needed it. She never had.
"Because they need to die." Something twisted in her face. Alois turned away, to hide the ice-slick pebbles from him. She squeezed her eyes shut. "They need to suffer and they need to die. They need to scream. They need to know...what it feels like."
Alois looked at him with the sudden light of an epiphany.
"They need to understand," she said almost thoughtfully, revelation in her face.

Ramone doesn't want to talk about it but he can't stop asking questions. And as they talk, Alois begins to see it in his face--a slow acceptance of her monstrosity. He's revolted by her torture, but ultimately he's like most people--he believes that the sick people she kills deserve what they get from her.
But he also wants her to stop. Not for the sake of her victims, but for her own sake. He doesn't want her to get caught. It's the first time in her life Alois has ever seen someone genuinely care about her. It breaks down the last of her walls. Ramone has gotten her to move to the couch so she can lie back and rest better with the side wound she has.
"They'll take you away," he whispered. He'd moved again, and was leaning against her now. Alois wondered if he'd noticed. She was incredibly aware of it--what he felt like, slim and curving against her. She could even feel the bra through his shirt and felt a sudden surge of desire. Her mouth went dry and she tried to swallow. He was close enough that she could smell the faint citrus aroma of his shampoo. "Alois, they'll put you in jail. They...they could execute you." He pressed against her, afraid again. He was so easily frightened. "I don't want you to die."
"I won't die." She wrapped her arm around his waist--at this point he was asking for it, wasn't he? Alois felt a new animal churning in her gut, one she'd never felt before, not like this. She'd wanted sex before. She'd never wanted a person. "I wouldn't be able to protect you, then."
There was an eternal silence, and the only thing Alois was aware of during it was that Ramone laid his head on her shoulder. His thick mop of black hair was lightly tickling the corner of her jaw.
"Alois," he murmured quietly into her neck.
"Yes?"
Ramone closed his eyes and breathed deeply. She smelled like blood and the cold outside. But beneath that was something else. Something very...human.
"Would you kill for me?" he whispered. He felt her stiffen. "If you had to."
He was shaking her apart inside, asking questions like this.
"I would kill everyone for you," she said. Her voice was unsteady, her heart racing. Her wound throbbed, but it was at the back of her mind.
Ramone lifted his head and stared at her, his liquid black eyes reflecting Alois's darkness back at her. They were so clear, like glass. Alois felt like she was drowning in them.
And they were very suddenly full of a resolved determination.
Ramone climbed onto her lap, spreading his legs to either side of her hips. He began pulling his shirt off.
Not fast enough. Alois ripped it the rest of the way off, gripping his waist and pulling him close to her mouth. She put it hungrily to his torso, and Ramone moaned, arching into her. She clawed the tight black bra awkwardly off his chest, breaking the clasp. Alois used her tongue skillfully on the sensitive flesh beneath it, and Ramone twisted his fingers in her hair, gripping her head and pressing her teeth into his skin.
Some heat-soaked minutes of passion passed, punctuated by Ramone's soft moans, Alois's occasional growl or grunt. They were interrupted when the stitches in Alois's side protested sharply at a movement, and she caught her breath in pain.
He ignored her insistence of good health and they went no further. But he shared her bed later when they went to sleep, her pale skin a stark contrast to his dark mocha brown as they laid tangled together under the sheets.

Meanwhile Mr. Alvin selects his next victim, and it happens to be Ramone. Alois and Ramone return to school after hours for something, and Mr. Alvin, not realizing that Alois is there, takes his chance, hitting Ramone with a tranq. As he's losing consciousness, Ramone yells for Alois. She hears and comes running. Alvin takes him out a nearby emergency exit and Alois follows.
Alvin's stuffing Ramone in the trunk by the time she makes it to the parking lot. He pulls out and takes off before she can stop him.
Alois goes home and prepares herself for battle.
Ramone wakes up in Mr. Alvin's "workshop." He recognizes its purpose easily enough--Alois let him see hers. Alvin has him handcuffed to a bed. There's no gag. Alvin enjoys the screaming.
He doesn't usually take people as old as Ramone, but he's making an exception. Ramone has a pretty face, boyish. Innocent.
Alois has made friends over the years. People she's used to help her find her victims--people that either support or just aren't against what she does. One of them is a hacker who pegs down Alvin's car.
It's an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city.
Basically Alois calls the police, intending to take Alvin alive, but things don't pan out that way. She and him have a sort of epic battle with the sprinkler system going off--Ramone finds the electricity box and the master switches after Alois manages to get him loose, so he turns on the warehouse so Alois doesn't fight blind--and she kills him right as he stabs her in the gut.
The police arrive. Alvin is dead, Alois goes to the hospital. Ramone is taken as well. He also has to give a police statement. He lies.
Later Alois awakens to find the head of the police department's forensic evidence standing over her. She tested both Alois's and Alvin's blood at the scene and put them in the system. Alvin's matched the DNA found under one of his victim's fingernails. Alois's matched the blood at the scene where her victim cut her open.
The technician's daughter was raped and murdered by one of the men Alois killed.
She erased Alois from the system. She advises her to stop and live her life. This is the only freebie she'll get, the technician warns.
Alois agrees.
Ramone can't explain how Alois found him, Alois claims she'd followed the teacher to the warehouse after Ramone told her about what happened in the bathroom. She explains she thought it didn't mean anything, but when Alvin got Ramone at the school she knew where to go. It was just luck.
The police buy it, or at least agree to. At any rate, they don't suspect her as the Death's Head.
Alois graduates from high school, attends community college, and joins the police force. She's never rid of the hunger to hunt down bad people and hurt them.But--for the most part--she manages to bury her darkness.
She and Ramone live happily ever after.

Monolith summary + extra

Elwend has grown up in the circus as a tightrope walker, but three years ago his life--and career choice--changed dramatically. The ringmaster Ferrenz came upon a magnificient jewel when the circus spent the night in a mountain cave, and he took it with intentions of selling it in a city. But before he could, that gem hatched--into a huge baby dragon. An Ancestor, the most powerful of all mortal creatures in existence. And that baby dragon bonded with Elwend.
Now, Monolith, or Lith for short, has been put into show business with the rest of the circus, and the fame she's gained them has paid their way into the Inner Circle, the countries within the mountain ring of Anishiinabeg. But once they are within the ring, Elwend is paid a visit by a felid and warned about those out to capture Lith and him. She herself is part of a secret order dedicated to keeping the Circles at peace, and Lith is a danger to that. In order to keep Lith and Elwend safe, the order has sent an escort to get him and her safely out of the Inner Circle and across Motherback, the huge mountain ring that stretches around the world. On the other side is the original land of dragonkind and their kin, Dar'Veyl. There, among her own kind, Lith will be revered for the legendary being she is, and she and her nexuin will be able to live out their lives in peace.

Therin: a "Redlander" assassin. He is a native of Ghorus, a land of red rock canyons. Redlanders are enemies of Palelanders, so Therin naturally is hostile towards Rivveld. He is skilled in the arts of double-bladed fighting, stealth, and knives.
Falarien: Therin's nexuin. She is half snubsnout, half Eastern dragon. She is quiet, but strong, and a softhide. Her markings are a mottled black and grey. She too is stealthy, and gifted in stealth magics.
Rivveld: A palelander mercenary, and a native of Tohkar, a land of salt flats and petrified trees. Rivveld's skills lie in heavy artillery, and her favoured weapon is a blunderbuss that fires grapeshot. She has the lower half of a demon mask bolted to her jaw(though this is not apparent in the first issue), which happened when she was younger and drafted into a Palelander gang. The upper half of the mask is detachable, and she wears it when she goes into battle.
Glaive: Rivveld's nexuin. He is a dragon of mountaintop breeding, possessing the primitive highlights of a stone elemental dragon, but built light and slim with a large, long, narrow crest on his head. He is an agile flier, and an arrogant personality.
Meshua: the felid that comes for Lith and Elwend. She purposely chose a Redlander and Palelander to be on their team because she knew their hostilities would prevent them from emotionally compromising if they had to choose between Elwend and Rift and each other. This reveals her exceptionally wily--and cutthroat--personality. She is the sort to play both sides to her advantage, which is why she is so good at being a member of the Order of the Dawn. Playing two different hostilities against each other has often been a necessary tactic of the past in keeping the world in balance and equality. She wears a fancy coat and hat, and is often seen smoking a pipe.
Sidewinder: Meshua's nexuin, who is not seen until late in the first issue. He is a Common dragon with a crafty side, like his nexuin. He is good at flying, can survive in a fight, and excells at deception and persuasion. He is fascinated by mechanics.
Thaddeus Grey: A dragon commissioned by the Order along with her partner Jackralolo to meet the group at the foot of the Motherback mountains. She is half Highblood, half javelin drake. She is maroon with scarce red markings and stark white wings. She can not fly without the use of magic, and prefers running anyway. She is a sarcastic sort who does not trust lightly and enjoys flustering people, and has days of long, somber silences. Thadd specializes in blunt, brutal attacks, preferring to finish off prey and challengers quickly with powerful strikes.
Jackralolo: Thaddeus Grey's mercenary partner. He is half bipedal drake, half Eastern dragon. He is hyperactive, thrives on attention, and can be adorably childish. He specializes in magical attacks, enjoying grand displays of power that either intimidate his enemies into submission or incinerate them immediately. Thadd may be the brains of their operation, but he is what cheers her up when she is down.
Neither Thadd nor Jack have nexuins. It is not a common thing on the other side of Motherback. However, like all dragons, they can shapeshift, and they greet Elwend, Lith, Therin, Falerian, Meshua, Glaive, and Rivveld in human forms at the bottom of the mountains at the end of the first issue. They rescue them from a small troupe of golems.
Dragons with nexuins do not form halos because their magic is divided up equally between the two of them. The only halo'd dragons that appear in this are Jack and Thadd.

Weeell, let's cover what should actually happen in the story. Or rather the one issue of it. They get into the Inner Ring, then have to get out and pass through the Redlands and the Palelands, which is another reason that Meshua hired both a Redlander and a Palelander as bodyguards. They aren't just protection, they're guides.

WHAT HAPPENS:
They get Elwend out of the circus. They purge him of the deepshade, and explain when he wakes up. He chooses to go with them after Lith shows him what happened at the circus--she had to light some peeps up, yo.
"She is right, Elwend. We must go.
"Even now, dark intentions seek us out."

"So, Meshua, before we get too much farther along on our journey, are there any OTHER little surprises you'd like to inform us of?
"Mmmm...none that I'd inform you of, no."

So they set out immediately after Elwend and Lith reach their decision. But as they're packing up, Falarien sounds an alarm that someone is approaching. It's the seventh and eighth members of their party, Rivveld and Glaive. Therin expresses his hostility and they move on.
The first few days are just running. They have to get back across the Inner Circle mountains first, the Anishinaabeg(at the base of which they will meet Thadd and Jack, who save them from a golem army)
Um. Need some conflict, k. After running, Meshua lays out a map and tells Elwend and Lith their travel plan, during which we have scenes of the Redlands and the Palelands with monsters in each that they're worried about.
"There are very few monsters within the Inner Circle, which is why civilization has thrived here." Meshua tucked the map away in her coat and tilted her head back to gaze up at the moons. "Honestly, I'd rather have to deal with monsters. People are worse."
"Worse?" Elwend said in astonishment. "How are people than monsters?"
"Because monsters you can kill and be done with," Rivveld murmured as she cleaned her blunderbuss. "People...you kill them, and more of them come after you. Sometimes with bigger weapons than before." She finished reassembling her gun, then held it up and sighted down the barrel. "People are complicated."
"And Palelanders are incredibly simple," Therin sniped as he returned with his pouch full of herbs. "What does that tell you?"
"That you're a petty siisha with a superiority complex?" Rivveld replied.
"Why you--" Therin's eyes flashed and he reached for his scimitar.
"Ah-ah-ahh," Meshua said, lighting her pipe. "Play nice, you two. Take it down a few notches."
Therin settled for glaring at Rivveld and Rivveld settled for ignoring him.
"'Siisha'?" Elwend murmured quietly to Meshua. The felid smiled.
"Not a pretty meaning, boy, and one you're better off not knowing. Now get some sleep. Long day ahead of us."

To get to the Inner Circle mountain range--and get over it--the fastest route leads through the Realm of Thylacia. It is ruled by a dangerous queen, power-hungry, who has been gradually extending her power around the inner edge of the Anishinaabeg. Meshua's greatest foreboding is that Thyla already knows about Lith--the circus passed around the edge of her realm, so hearsay's definitely reached her by now. Thyla might not know what an Ancestor is, but she definitely knows that a giant black dragon can be useful. She plans to wage war on the bigger countries of the Inner Circle.

The Inner Circle officially begins on the inside of the Anishinaabeg mountains. However, the actual Inner Circle countries are a few dozen miles inwards. Between the countries and the Anishinaabeg is the Midlands, generally uncivilized and full of minor beasties no one really worries about. But recently Thyla has been makin things difficult. She's takin up the land that no one else owns, and soon she's gonna start takin bigger bites out of things that matter.
The problem is that most people don't pay attention to the Midlands, so no one really knows there's anything to worry about.
Thyla is gatherin an army of anyone who'll fight for her--mercenaries, intelligent monsters...and the outcast puppeteers, masters of golem magic.
"P-puppeteers?" Elwend said, his eyes widening. "We're going to run into Puppeteers?"
"Not if we can help it," Meshua assured him.
"I don't understand," Rivveld cut in with her gravelly voice. "What is a puppeteer?"
"You don't know?" Elwend said, staring at her.
"Of course not," Therin snorted derisively. "She's a Palelander. They know nothing of civilized magics."
"Alright then, Redlander," Rivveld growled, turning her burning black eyes on him. The hostility in her voice came as a surprise to Elwend--apparently Therin's constant derisions were taking more of a toll than she'd let on. "You answer my question."
Therin blinked at her, opened his mouth, shut it, then looked away with a face mixed with irritation and embarassment.
Rivveld growled, then looked at Meshua.
"If I am to protect my ward," she said, "I must know what I am up against."
"Of course," Meshua replied. "The puppeteers specialize in a sort of...modern magic. The official name for it is mechani, but most people call them puppeteers for lack of understanding how the magic works. They take things like metal and stone and put them together, and they make them move and do things."
"Things?" Therin asked, narrowing his eyes. "Make them move?"
"Just like giant puppets," Meshua said, and sighed. "It's very hard to explain if you've never seen it before. Just hope you don't see them at leave it at that."
"Hoping we don't see them is not a good manner by which to prepare for the event we do," Rivveld said, narrowing her eyes.
"Rest assured that in such a case swords and guns will be useless, and it will be up to me to deal with them," Meshua said.
Elwend did not feel very reassured at all.

Right, so, there'll be people sent after em like ooog! the people wanting the egg to BEGIN with, of COURSE. They'll have sent people after it. So there's the people lookin for it, bounties on it and such, and someone puts two and two together and figures it out when they see the Circus poster.
The bounty hunter has been chasing the egg for some time now. He lost track of it three years ago and gave up, but now the people that hired him have got the trail again and send him after it again. He's reluctant, but they offer him something no one else can--a cure. He's
The people are elves.
got some sort of disease. A curse. Well we wouldn't find out in the first issue anyway so I don't have to figure out what it is. It's just something that turns his arm into some sort of black wood-like bark thing. He can move it and everything, but slowly it will consume his body and then...do something else terrible involving a painful death.

So here's what happens: The elves arrange a mount and some sort of hound: a mechani hound. And he sets off.
I'll make him a Felid, I think. That'd be fun. And he ends up crushin on Meshua.
Anyway, they run afoul of Thyla a'course. They're followd by bandits on the road, who attack them and lay Meshua low. They mean to take her to a healer, but the healer betrays them to Thyla and drugs them. Elwend knows the smell of deepshade by heart now, even through the man's scented incense, and dashes it to the floor. He and the two guards and their dragons escape, but they drag Elwend out and leave Meshua, despite his protest.
Meshua's dragon Sidewinder is badly weakened by her state, and the healer calls up a nearby bodyguard mechani. Wary by Meshua's words about how useless weapons are against it, Rivveld and Therin hold back. Sidewinder tells them that they're taking Meshua to Thyla, and he's seen her armies through the eyes of her thralls--nothing they could win against, even with Lith.
But Elwend comes up with an INGENIOUS plan.
"We don't have to win," he said firmly. "We just have to run faster than they can."
"Are you mucking mad--" Therin began, but Rivveld held up a hand.
"Wait now," she said quietly. "...That actually might work."

Monolith outline part 1

Monolith outline:

Chapter 1:
They rescue Elwend and purge him of the deepshade

Meshua explains to him who they are, describes the route, and gives him his choice

Elwend and Lith decide to go with, Rivveld and Glaive arrive

They make first for Adorwha gorge to meet up with a post of the Order of Dawn in order to stock up supplies. As they travel, Meshua instructs Rivveld and Therin to teach Elwend how to fight. Meanwhile, Glaive and Falarien train Lith how to be a dragon. Hunting, magicking, firebreathing, and fighting Falarien and Glaive have agrred to overlook the hostilities between their nexuins, so they're at peace. For a while, things go well.

Then they near the edge of Thyla's territory and Meshua instructs them to be on their guard.

"Today we cross into Thyla's territory," Meshua announced in subdued tones. "Things become dangerous now. Thyla's people are not large in number, and to compensate she has hired nearly every bandit and mercenary in her land to patrol her borders. These are very dangerous, very cutthroat men and women. If we are taken, we will likely be killed." She paused and turned to Elwend. "There is still time to turn back," she said quietly.
Elwend stared her straight in the face and set his jaw.
"There is nothing to turn back to," he said firmly. Lith gouged the ground with a forepaw and snorted a fierce puff of black smoke, small yellow flames punctuating it.
"Let them come," she growled. "We are ready."
Sidewinder barked a sharp laugh. "Your spirit is admirable, young one," he said, and leapt into the sky.
"But it is folly," Meshua added after he'd gone. "You are no more ready to take on a group of thirty mercenaries than I am ready to don a lady's dress and bonnet and dance the Atulian waltz. We do not fight today. We run."
"Run?" Elwend asked, blinking. Up until now the fastest they'd gone--especially dragonback--had been a brisk trot.
"Run," Meshua affirmed. "We must get as far inland today as possible. If we are lucky we will pass through the border patrols' routes and avoid them completely."
Rivveld and Therin also spread out with Falarien and Glaive, the humans and dragons taking turns between staying by Elwend/Lith's sides and scouting ahead and about from the air and ground. There was little of the easy companionship now, and Elwend realized what Meshua said had been true--before there had been no real danger. The ringmaster was the only one they'd worried about until now--maybe he'd hired people to go after Elwend, maybe not, but either way they would have been easily handled by three expert fighters and their three powerful dragons. Now things were serious. Thyla kept all her people well-equipped and prepared to deal with anything. Even dragons.
Meshua was the only one who stayed next to Elwend constantly, atop her black charger. They did not stop for lunching that day, but ate as they moved. They did not make camp until late at night.
Elwend was just unrolling his pallet when Meshua thwapped him on the shoulder with her tail.
"You do not sleep yet," she said. "You have training."
"Fighting? Now?" Elwend asked, an air of desperation in his voice. He was exhausted. Elwend had done little other than hold on, but his body was sore from Lith's spine-jolting run and he could feel her own exhaustion through their bond.
"Not fighting," Meshua assured. Before Elwend could even relax, she added, "Magic."
"But Lith is so tired--"
"She can rest. But you must train."
Elwend bit back a whimper of protest and wearily stood, following Meshua over to the fire, where she sat cross-legged before it. To his surprise, Meshua removed both her hat and coat. He couldn't remember ever seeing her without them.
"Sit," she said, pointing to the ground beside her. Elwend obeyed.
"Up until now I have taught you the state of mind and state of body you must be in to perform magic," she said. "And you have grasped both quickly. Now I will begin to teach you of fire."
Meshua reached into the fire and pulled out a salamandre.
Elwend gaped.
"What...what is..."
"This is a salamandre," Meshua answered the unfinished question. "Fire has many totems--the tiger, the phoenix, and even the dragon may be used to represent it. But fire's true form is what you see now." The salamandre was investigating Meshua's hand, its small body a mixture of translucent flickering, its gills small plumes of flame that licked about its head like a small mane. Then it stood up on its hindlegs and began to sway, as if performing some sort of dance. "Salamandres exist in greater size and quantity on the other side of Motherback. This creature is but a small cousin of those."
Meshua turned to Elwend and held up the small, dancing fire spirit.
"Before you can communicate with the world through magic, you must understand what you are trying to communicate with," Meshua murmured. "Magic is not a mystical force. It is not a river of power connecting all things. The only great Power of the world is that of the Great Spirit." Meshua took Elwend's hand and grasped it in her spare hand. "Magic is a language, Elwend. It lets us speak to the world around us. It lets us ask things of it. It can let us control it--but you must never try to control things through magic, Elwend. We are but humans--it is not our place. The cost of such a thing will destroy you."
She slipped the salamandre into Elwend's hand. He gasped and went rigid--afraid of being burned.
But nothing happened. The salamandre paused its dance to investigate the new hand, but then reared up again and continued its dance. Elwend watched, entranced.
"Why...why is it doing that?" he asked.
"Doing what?" Meshua asked, sounding surprised.
"Dancing, I think." Meshua laughed.
"It's dancing because it's fire, Elwend." Meshua gestured to the flames grandly, and they flared hungrily at her cue. "That is what fire does!" Meshua moved to her feet in one fluid movement and the flames eagerly leapt up with her.
That night, Elwend danced with fire in his dreams.

Pelican Bones

New character concept for my Engine Tree universe(so technically every universe, but whatever.) She's one of the many Librarians in charge of keeping dimensions organized--more notably, the ones that AREN'T meant to mingle. For instance, there are worlds much like ours that are very strictly set in their ways. Thus technologies, artifacts, or mere tupperware from other worlds could cause massive upset in these strict dimensions if they were discovered. Just as looser dimensions allow for wilder energies, forces, and possibilities, worlds like ours provide the balance that keeps things quiet on this end of the spectrum. If one of the stricter dimensions begins unraveling, it could mess with all of them, and then you have interdimensional catastrophe. Bad stuff.
This person, who goes by Pelican Bones, is responsible for people, largely because she doesn't like them very much. There are Librarians that keep track of objects, and then there's a whole other breed specialized for people, right down to specific races, worlds of origination--the list goes on. Pelican Bones deals with Deadly Individuals. These are generally interdimensional travelling assassins or mercenaries, etc, hired by someone in another dimension to kill people. Pelican Bones steps in and prevents this from happening among the stricter dimensions, though that's where her job ends. Actually finding the person who hired the assassin is the responsibility of another department. Pelican Bones draws the line at Politics.
As may be evident from her attire and her tattoos, Pelican is an individual of ultimatums. Black or white. There is no grey and there is no compromise. That is not to say she never quits. She does. And when she has, there's no convincing her to try again. She other Succeeds or she Fails.
Fortunately for the rest of the Library, she very rarely Fails.
I had trouble finding good references for pelican skeletons, so please forgive any glaring anatomical errors.