Was it something I said?

Fertal 1

As I'd hoped, it appears that this world never encountered Dark Elves, so she's not panicking (thinking she'll be killed in cruel sport).

But be that as it may, I'm rather . . . dismayed and disappointed in my sister here.

How she reacts to me. To my tale (which except for some facts like it is very true). I . . . . remember how I had been leery of mages and of non-humans before now. I fear that perhaps my impulses lead me astray? Seems that in this reality the prejudices that had been found in "my" Allaria are much more pronounced.

Yes, the elfin heart can be wise at times but . . . I fear that this is a prime example showing that sometimes pride and prejudice can overwhelm family love.

God, 'tis a sad day indeed....

See, my "sister" here is getting ready to reject me AND reject the warnings I'm giving. Can see it in her face as I'm telling about the details of how "I" (actually my demifox brother) had suceeded in his mission (kill the dragon of the Southern Caverns) but had run afoul of his magics, changing my form permanently. Warning that I needed to disappear for a while, perhaps forever because there were those still out there who wished to have the source of the power which had transformed me.

True enough, maybe. Someone out there had put my demifox brother into a magical timewarp (perhaps to keep them anchored to one spot until collection later).

Or perhaps she's just thinking that this is some kind of trick. That I am just some kind of fake, an elf who'd magicked himself to look like her lost brother. That my friends are in on it, out to trick her for nefarious reasons.

Yeah, non-humans and magic users are not trusted in Allaria. Some are hunted for just existing, even. Reason why we're not letting my brother out of his crystlian form until well out of the Great (hah!) Kingdom's borders.

Hm, maybe that's what it is. Either way she's not listening, really....

But . . . . someone else was!

A roar of rage and a belch of fire....

And then. . . .the titanic crash of a female dragon's form smashing into the woods behind our small clearing!

Good GOD!

Inquirer

When the Avatar units were commissioned, they'd been billed as having the best reflexes money could buy. Ungodly, really. And due to circumstance beyond my control, my mind had been snatched out of my old base unit and into a magical gem, fusing it to the Avatar unit I'd picked for myself out of a moment of whimsy.

Don't mind looking like my ol' movie star favorite actress, Weaver, but . . . . got to say that it can be awkward at times when visiting parallel Earths.

That's not the issue here. Reflexes are.

After the battle with the Lowmen, I'd shot my Military issue plasma pistol dry. Down to my backups, which are Star Fleet (bleh!) issue phasor pistol and a gift from an old friend, Alicia. The one I'd saved from that vampire so long ago, for the record (you know, the one who's not a fox Manimal or a bear Manimal).

It's a pretty good reproduction of my brother's revolver. It's near enough to a Colt 45 as seen in old American Westerns to raise eyebrows. The ammo is pure Terra Prime, though.

Dragonbane: a alchemical alloy of mostly silver and a few other, more exotic metals only found in the realms of magic (like Terra Prime).

Called Dragonbane because . . . dragons don't . . . like getting hit by the stuff. Very toxic to them. Disrupts their organs. Amongst many bad things that happens to them is that it weakens (breaks if enough penetrates their scaly hide) the bond between Dragon and Hoard. Yeah, a relative small amount can kill them, the ordinary dragon.

If a war between human and dragon had broken out on Terra Prime, it would have been a lot nastier for the dragons than they'd expect.

Now? Oh, secret recipe still is out there, but tightly controlled. Dragons and humans are on MUCH friendlier terms. Afraid that the Military kind of has a hand in that. Not a very happy story, but....

Okay, let's cut to the chase, okay?

Something, I feel, must have caused our draconian attacker to loose her cool. My memory files have already identified her as Dragoness Moreau, an old ally and friend of Minestus (a sister in all but blood, from what sources I'd talked with) back on Terra Prime, and that means trouble with everything put together here.

By the context of what Fertal had been talking about (probably overheard by her dragon ears, very good hearing dragons have in their natural form) I feel that she'd finally lost her cool. Here was a . . . . sub-Person (term Dragons had for non-Dragons before things . . . . changed back on Terra Prime) talking about how her friend . . . her brother (for all practical reasons) had been slain.

Fear that her ego and heart couldn't take it any more. She must have wanted to kill Fertal for that.

Roaring, she'd leapt up from the spot she'd hidden herself well OUT of our detection (probably used magery I and the others aren't familiar with, else we'd have detected her).

Classic strafing attack. Breath fire on us, turning us into smoking coals. That is what her plan was. Learned those dragon tactics from my teacher and friend, Sigin.

Had not a problem at all in my response. She was attacking. The look of rage, if nothing else was clue enough.

Yeah, remember my reflexes? I'd fired my revolver loaded with Dragonbane bullets and holstered it before even the elves' eyes could follow.

Shan't feel remorse over this because Moreau is clearly in the wrong and things had happened too quickly for anything else. See, unlike that time with the Company ship . . . . I kind of still feel regret over it. I'd tried my best to avoid having to do it, but failed. Still know it had been the only thing to do to save Torg Earth (override the ship and destroy it before it destroyed the planet), but....

....

Nevermind....

As for what the others DID see?

Well, the spurt of fire from the gun barrel registered, but doubt that Rowena knows what the Hell just happened. Perhaps she will mistake it for some kind of magic spell instead of the truth: a silver (mostly) bullet which has traveled from gun, through left eye of attacking dragoness. Which ended up bouncing and pretty much scrambling beyond redemption the evil reptile's brain.

The crash of the dead body as it crashes into the woods behind us is deafening. Almost as much as the shocked silence (only a few seconds worth but a LONG time for an AI) afterwards.

The shouts of surprise from the rudely awakened dragons, Chiana and Sigin, is pretty loud, also.

....

Well, at least they'd not let instinct take over and shifted themselves into dragon form. Still, they're both VERY naked.

"What the frell happened!?" Chiana gasps, looking around (not at all minding for the moment she's as naked as the day she'd come into Nebari Prime).

"Unwelcome pests came a calling," I sigh, gesturing first at the dead dragon and then at the still sputtering Rowena the native. "I'll explain later after this."

With that, a magical gesture by me freezes Rowena in her tracks.

Listen to me, I say into the frightened girl's mind. I hope to the Creator by now you believe your brother in his warnings. Do not attempt to find him again. He's in danger and we are the only ones who can help him and his love. It will mean he's going away for a while. Probably forever, especially considering he has no future in Allaria.

Yeah, he HAD mentioned that the magicks used upon him (or rather the native Fred) wasn't reversible. Do feel within the girl the beginnings of belief, now.

I don't want you or others following us, I say softly in her mind, not bothering to listen for a response. You'll just be in the way. A possible victim, even, in whatever crossfire we'll face soon enough. I'd like to . . . at least say goodbye to him, but . . . it's time for you to sleep and go away.

I feel a stab of protest from her. She wants to speak.

But honestly I'm not in the mood. It's too late. Sooner she's away the better and I'd seen what had been going through her mind. Showed on her face, it did. Had hurt Fertal terribly, it had.

Honestly, this Rowena has outstayed her welcome. I'm tired of her and kind of regret having to sacrifice my magic carpet for her, but it's the right thing to do.

Program my carpet (only had used it a handful of times, damnit!) to carry the snoring Rowena to the very gates of Collins and dump her at the gate. Then, a spell I've cast upon it (delayed implementation) will destroy the rug, ruining it (and leaving nothing for any White Hand mages to trace). The round about route it'll fly will lessen chances of it being backtracked, I figure....

Don't know how good they are, but won't put it past them to manage to pull a rabbit out of the hat. Yeah, that stupid order is something, counterproductive in their goals, the White Hand. Regulating magicks more and more, outlawing magery that had been perfectly acceptable to the masses earlier (but now due to growing paranoia....)

Nevermind, don't get me started on THEM....

That done, the carpet sailing away, I and the Doctor explain to our still fidgeting dragons (our friends) what has happened.

Chiana

After Inquirer finishes, I look at my husband.

"This dren happen a lot with your group?" I ask, blinking.

"Not really," he sighs. "Then again this whole Quest hasn't been normal."

"As if such a word ever applied to our Quests," mutters Ragan.

After a little bit of discussion, we figure that we'd better forget about original plans. Time to fly before MORE idiots interrupt us.

But....

"Hey, what about that stuff about me and Sigin needing rest?" I protest, still feeling the frelling twinges in my back!

Loved all that flying, but I am sure feeling it now! Sigin is also, by his winces....

....

Waitaminte. Frell!! In all this mess I'd totally forgotten I'm naked!! Quickly willing my cloths to appear (so NICE being able to do that), I blink a little bit in embarrassment and consternation.

....

I mean I'm not a prude! Frell, me that? But . . . as free as I was in my . . . fun I never really . . . . Well, it's just not a good idea! I mean, clothing has stuff like-like pockets and stuff! Belts to put guns and equipment for times when hezmana breaks loose and. . . .

....

Why didn't I . . . notice?

It's because you're a dragoness, Sigin sends, also having willed forth his clothing seconds after me.

He'd sense my confusion and . . . knows me like I know him.

Ah, right. Dragons in their natural form don't wear cloths. Have scales and that dren. Who needs clothing with that, huh? Sometimes a dragon can . . . forget that, especially when their new to their ability of a human seeming OR when . . .

Heh, when something like a big frellin' dragon's crashed behind them while they'd been asleep!

"As for the answer to your original question," Sigin sighs, pulling something out of a pouch.

....

Oh.

All of us sleeping types will need it in order to be ready for Atlantis, but still....

"Bleah!!" I spit, wishing I didn't drink this stuff. "It tastes like frelling trak!"

I'd say that I now know what John tasted when Sigin had force fed this shit (heh, used an Earther term) down his throat, but I'd be wrong. It's much worse for me and Sigin. See, among other things that are heightened is my sense of taste.

Stuff is worse than trak.... Reason why we'd originally opted for sleeping than this stuff.

Betty

Well, on the positive side this stuff is better than coffee. Sure is a shock to the system in waking a person up! Do believe I'll be awake for DAYS because of it!

Downside, I now know just why poor Crichton was gagging on it (re: 21937).

Horrible! And the aftertaste is going to be with me for TOO long for my tastes (pardon the pun).

Sighing, I look back at the dragon who'd interrupted my dreams and sigh. This whole Quest is turning out to be a lot more of a bloody affair than I'm liking, too.

Cannot read Inquirer's face on how she feels about this latest death, but got a feeling she's not happy about it. Then again . . . probably not as unhappy about this dragon's death as she'd been over the deaths of those aboard the Company's CEO's ship. Some aboard had just been doing their job to stay employed (and fed . . . and not starving). This dragon? Well, let's just say the Terra Prime analog and she have a . . . history together, sorta. Her brother, Ajax, had been responsible for that one's death, you know (re: 1219).

Do believe that she'd been happy enough to have done the deed, if she'd had the chance. Bloody business, that dragoness had been involved in....

Oh, and what lovely turn of thoughts we are having here, Betty!

Almost have to smile, remembering the memory that comes from the gesture that Inquirer gives the corpse right before causing it to burst into an intense (but controlled) funeral pyre.

Do recall that fertility gesture had caused some . . . .er . . . problems for Chiana and the others on TV back in the episode Kansas. She'd thought it was a greeting and....

"Uh, Betty," Chiana calls to me, gesturing down at . . . something. "What exactly does this mean?"

...

Oh boy.

"Kind of the same thing as what 'Have a nice day!' means sometimes in the Military," Elrondir chuckles. "In Farscapese it is the same thing as saying 'Frell you!'"

"Really?" she blinks, quickly drawing the offending digit back. Oh, she's happy enough to be that insulting when she feels like it, but . . .

Well, I do declare! She's embarrassed! Well, it happens...

My, this has been an interesting trip!

"Hm," Chiana mutters, making the gesture again, practicing.

Sigin chuckles, shaking his head. Amused. Oy, well, he sure knows how to pick 'em, I guess.

Elrondir, meanwhile, is sharing with the intrigued dragoness some of the more common terms for "the finger".

"Oh, so that's what Inquirer meant by giving that Eye the bird," I hear her say as Elrondir (himself something of a character) shares some of the other, more vulgar terms in his vocabulary.

1. Oy, this is sure a strange group of Companions the Doctor's landed.....

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