Rivalry in the Friendly Skies

Background:

A wide, grassy paddock (53443) - the City of Esterport (360)

Rain pours down from dark thunderclouds, only the merest hints of sunset breaking through. A tiny patch of solid, green ground amid the elevated pathways, this paddock is a fairly ingenious work of engineering, constructed to appear as if naturally rising out of the waters below. Careful inspection, however, reveals the truth of the creation: a large, long platform has been merely landscaped enthusiastically, grasses, shrubs and even trees encouraged to grow rampant over the base to create a large, man-made field nestled between the swollen river's waters. A mobile mass of yellow and noise, this horde of chicks nevers tands still. Head held high with a willful defiance, a fiery painted ina'a roams here. Gazing about with a fearsome glare, a large, feathered and scaled wyrm is here. Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose is here, shrouded. He wields a lit black cigarette with white roses in his left hand.

You see exits leading north and south.

Aros reigns in a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm, having arrived in a flurry pumping wings and feathers.

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose says to you, "Good afternoon, Miss Sinclair."

You have emoted: Phoenecia glances up from where she's brushing the coat of her grazing ina'a, the beast lifting its head as well to stare at Aros and his dragon. "Ah, hello, White Rose. Fancy meeting you here," she greets cheerfully.

A fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm tilts its head back and warbles softly at Phoenecia.

Aros reaches up and buries a hand in the feathery mane of a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm. "Isn't it? Almost as if I came to see you." he replies, casting you a small smile.

You have emoted: Phoenecia narrows her eyes at the equine next to her at it snorts and stomps at the ground impatiently, though she murmurs something to it in the Mitrine tongue, and it soon calms itself. "Well, I'm not up to much at the moment. Letting my mount graze and brushing his coat. Occasionally I have him fetch flowers for me - he's quite fast at it."

Aros gently rubs his hand back and forth, careful not to break any feathers as he does. "Fast, is he? Perhaps on the ground." he replies. There's a bit of a mischievous glint in his eyes, hidden as they are behind a pair of multi-lensed venantium glasses.

You have emoted: Phoenecia narrows her eyes and snorts at Aros from her place at a fiery painted ina'a 's flank. "My steed is an ina'a, a windbeast REVERED by the Mitrine tribe of the Liruma, and believed to be wind made flesh," she states proudly, as if she were offended. "So he's as fast in the air as he is on the ground, if not faster!"

Aros laughs softly at a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm protest. "Well, he seems to disagree. Does a steed really compare to a Dragon descendant?" he asks out loud as he draws his hand back to smooth the ruffled feathers.

The vague image of an entwined black rose necklace appears in the air, before Rayniaa ppears in a flash of magic. She is followed by Mortelle, a sable warhound, a sable warhound, and a sable warhound.

Raynia leans against Aros, nestling herself close to his side.

A light blush forms on Aros's cheek, but his own wing reaches out to wrap comfortably around Raynia's shoulder. "Hello." he murmurs to her, then looks back to you.

You have emoted: Phoenecia lets out a huff and pats her steed's back. "I trained in both riding and flying these creatures before, during, and after the war. This one is fast, and I've had years of flying experience." She nods towards Aros, looking more than a little confident. "What about you? How long have -you- been flying? You think your wyrm is faster?"

Aros's head tilts to the side as he considers your words. "I've been flying the entirety of my life. However, Kiertan and I have not been together a year. Still, no steed can match him." he replies, equally confident.

You have emoted: Phoenecia glances to the wyrm, and then back to Aros, a sly grin forming on her lips. "Well...care to prove that? See which beast is faster, and which one of us is the better flier. What do you say to a friendly race, White Rose?" she replies, her eyes sparkling with a sudden eagerness.

Aros grins down at Raynia, obviously pleased at the challenge from you. "There it is, I told you it was coming." he says before nodding at you. "Oh, yes. I would enjoy that, Miss Sinclair." he replies to you.

Nodding at Aros, Raynia says, "So you did. I guess I'll wait here then!"

Aros just thought:

"I'd bring her, but I think he is too young yet to win with two riders..."

A fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm's tail slowly writhes back and forth,

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose asks you, "Perhaps she can declare a winner? Whoever returns first?"

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose says to Raynia, "If you'd be willing."

You have emoted: Phoenecia reaches into one of her belt pouches and produces a handful of ribbons - five blue and five white. "Alright then, if we're going to race, let's make it...interesting," she says, a grin splitting her lips. "I have ten ribbons, five of each color. We can set them up in different places between Esterport and North of Trees. Places that will be a challenge to grab while in flight."

Aros eyes the ribbons and counter offers, "How about we place five, that way there is a challenge to get the ribbon. If the race is close we will use the amount of ribbons gathered as a tie breaker." He looks to Raynia and raises a brow as if to ask, "Sound fair?"

Ser Raynia Vilandra, Shadow Advisor says, "It does sound more challenging."

You have emoted: Phoenecia purses her lips in consideration, her eyebrows furrowed. Eventually, she nods, the counter offer seemingly acceptable to her. "Very well. I do like that idea," she admits. "But, no outside interference. And no fighting over the ribbon. Whoever manages to snatch it first gets to keep it."

Ser Raynia Vilandra, Shadow Advisor says, "I don't believe in being dishonest personally so there will be none from me other than to state who arrived first."

Aros nods his head and smiles broadly. "It is a race, then. A circuit, or perhaps to say... North of Trees?" he asks.

You have emoted: "How about we place the ribbons out to North of Trees and then race back?" Phoenecia offers in suggestion with a tilt of her head. "Sounds more convenient, I think."

A nod of Aros's head accompanies his wrapping Raynia in a brief hug. A small, boyish grin clings to his lips as he turns and quickly clambers his way to the back of a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm. "Shall we ride?" he asks.

You have emoted: Phoenecia nods and takes a moment to tighten the straps on her ina'a's saddle before swinging herself up onto it, the beast rearing back and flapping its wings in a proud whinny. "Yes, let's. You're going to lose, White Rose!"

A fiery painted ina'a rears back onto his hind legs, his wings sweeping a gusts of air before him with a defiant whinny.

The churned air eddies into small whirlwinds, which spiral outwards as they die down.

On the Esterport Bridge 

The stars glimmer down, broken only upon occasion by thin wisps of clouds. This wide bridge spans the mighty Zaphar river, the current flowing slow and steady beneath the flat cobblestone. West lies the highway, winding through the distant Ithmia and across the continent; east, the rising height of the city of Esterport. Great stone walls ring the city in full, a safeguard against potential threat, ringing its buildings and roofs. The well-traveled cobblestones have been worn smooth, though the rough rise of the bridge's edges prevents passerby from tumbling into the river too easily.

You have emoted: Phoenecia nods as they stop by the gates, guiding her ina'a towards the rooftops and staking the ribbon to a shingle atop a nearby roof.

You have posed an azure silk hair ribbon #357794 as:

An azure hairribbon waves about in the wind, pinned to a shingle at the peak of a nearby rooftop.

Bottom of the ascending Ranger's trail (road) Hailstones pelt down in the night, blotting out the heavens as they fall to the surface. Plant life has sprouted in nearly every visible part of the trail here, the ground is covered with flowers, though many have been crushed by a careless passerby. The powerful scent of various flowers and trees fills the air, seemingly untouched by the weather. Broken branches are scattered across the trail, though many look to have been cut by a bladed weapon of some sort. 

You see exits leading south and northwest.

Aros brings a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm to a halt, having pressed on to get to the second marker after you hunt the first. "Here?"

You have posed a white silk hair ribbon #357796 as:

A pure white hairribbon waves about in the wind, tied off on a low branch.

You have emoted: Phoenecia nods once more, but this time she ties off the ribbon on the lower branches of one of the trees several feet above the ground. "To make it more challenging. Will have to dive for it."

Aros nods his head as he comes to a stop again. "That was my thought, plus it is easier than hanging them mid-air."

Ranger's trail near a chasm (road) 

Hailstones pelt down in the night, blotting out the heavens as they fall to the surface. The trail opens up slightly, though movement is restricted to following the trail to the south or west due to a massive drop to the northeast. The hole seems to have been caused by the loss of a great tree, the bottom so deep that depth is not easily calculable. To the south the trail begins to narrow, a large pile of debris piled across the ground.

You see exits leading south and west.

You have posed a ruby silk hair ribbon #357820 as:

A ruby silk hairribbon has been stabbed into the side of the chasm here, acting as a marker.

You have emoted: Phoenecia soars into the mouth of the chasm and pulls a dagger out of her belt, stabbing the ruby ribbon into the side of the cliff face as she passes. "Through the chasm to grab this ribbon," she declares as she draws close again.

Aros nods his head again. "Here, then one more." he calls.

Ranger's trail entering the Western Ithmia (road)

Hailstones pelt down in the night, blotting out the heavens as they fall to the surface. Though still resembling the expanse of forest to the north, this stretch of trail has the discernible look of a well used path. The dangerous thorns of the trail have thinned, but become thicker towards the south and to the west. The overpowering scent of the forest wafts through the air, seeming to lift up the otherwise desolate feeling of the overgrown trail. Various depressions of creatures feet have left numerous holes and caused the ground to become uneven and awkward. 

You see exits leading north, east, southeast, south, and west.

You have emoted: Phoenecia needs no further prompting and flies up, tying off another ribbon, this time near the top of a nearby tree in a dense cluster of evergreens.

You have posed an emerald silk hair ribbon #357856 as:

An emerald hairribbon flutters in the breeze near the top of a nearby tree.

Aros nods his head at you.

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose says, "Here."

Skirting the Aureliana Forest (road) The stars glimmer down, broken only upon occasion by thin wisps of clouds. A glance around you reveals instantly why some wily entrepreneur would build an inn at this place. Grasslands to the north, the pleasant sights and smells of the Aureliana to the south, and the great Shunai Bridge not far to the west. The Prelatorian moves steadily to the east and west.

You see exits leading north, southeast, south, and west.

Aros nods his head at you.

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose says, "Here."

Skirting the Aureliana Forest (road) (1362) 

The stars glimmer down, broken only upon occasion by thin wisps of clouds. A glance around you reveals instantly why some wily entrepreneur would build an inn at this place. Grasslands to the north, the pleasant sights and smells of the Aureliana to the south, and the great Shunai Bridge not far to the west. The Prelatorian moves steadily to the east and west.

You see exits leading north, southeast, south, and west.

You have posed a gold silk hair ribbon #357859 as:

A golden hairribbon flutters in the wind, tied to the railing of a nearby building.

You have emoted: Phoenecia wings up once more, pausing to secure the gold ribbon to a nearby building before returning to Aros, nodding for him to continue on down the road.

North of Trees (road) (1299) The stars glimmer down, broken only upon occasion by thin wisps of clouds. The great highway stretches north and southeast across the land, while a smaller, more poorly kept road connects to it from the southwest. This road is the link through the Morgun Forest and beyond into the Savannah, Dakhota hills, and finally the formidable desert. A frequent rendezvous place, the highway margins are trampled and the grasses flattened by the many beings that meet here. Debris often litters the place until blown away by the gusty winds. Oddly enough, the grass here has taken on a sickly tinge, and pools of foul-smelling slime have formed in the hollows of the earth. The murky darkness of night enshrouds the area. 

You see exits leading north, southeast, south, southwest, and in.

Aros brings a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm to the center of the highways meeting, turning a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm about to face southeast. The wyrm shakes his head, suddenly eager, its tail waiving back and forth in anticipation.

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose exclaims to you, "I think you might regret this, Miss Sinclair!"

You have emoted: The markers set, Phoenecia grins as she coaxes her ina'a high into the air, an eager grin on her face. "So sure you're not going to be the one eating my dust, White Rose?" she calls back.

Aros's wyrm takes to win in a couple hops, wings spreading wide to catch the currents. A few graceful pumps of its wings brings the pair up alongside you. "Big words!" he calls with a laugh then asks, "Ready?!"

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a one.

Total: 1.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a fifteen.

Total: 15.

Balance Used: 2.79 seconds

You have emoted: "Whenever you are!" Phoenecia shouts to you, tightening her grip on the reins as she readies herself and her mount to tear off through the skies at a moment's notice.

A loud shout of, "GO!", precipitates Aros's wyrm tucking its wings, falling into a steep dive before throwing them wide, catching the currents and shooting off toward the first ribbon.

Skirting the Aureliana Forest (road) (1362) 

A golden hairribbon flutters in the wind, tied to the railing of a nearby building.

You see exits leading north, southeast, south, and west.

Aros arrives at the ribbon first, his mount dipping and turning. Just as he is about to crash wing-side into the railing, a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm tucks his wings and rolls, which allows Aros to just barely catch a gold silk hair ribbon in his grasp.

The rolling continues as the wyrm's wings unfurl, coming up in an only slightly unsteady glide.

You have emoted: While by no means slow, the powerful flaps of Aros' wyrm buffets the winds enough to slow Phoenecia's pace. The glint of light on the fabric of the gold ribbon makes it easy to spot, and she swoops in after it, but reaches the spot too late. Rather than waste time, she takes off after Aros, shouting to her steed in the Mitrine tongue and urging it faster.

Too much momentum was lost in Aros's maneuver, and he realizes this far too late. With firm urging of Aros's heels, a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm begins to flap its broad wings hard and fast, trying to climb as well as accelerate. "Pit!" he calls, knowing you will pass him.

Aros picks up a gold silk hair ribbon.

You have emoted: A streak of blue and gold is all Aros sees as Phoenecia passes him, the Yeleni glancing over her shoulder and taunting him by sticking out her tongue. "I hope you like the view from behind!" her voice echoes, her form rapidly growing smaller as the distance between you increases.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a seventeen.

Total: 17.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a fifteen.

Total: 15.

Ranger's trail entering the Western Ithmia (road)  

An emerald hairribbon flutters in the breeze near the top of a nearby tree.

You see exits leading north, east, southeast, south, and west.

A fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm's tail slowly writhes back and forth, not unlike a cat's before it pounces.

A fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm tucks his wings tight, trying to dive once more for the ribbon that Aros and you strive for.

Aros's hands reach out for the ribbon, though he knows he's a hair too far behind you.

A fiery painted ina'a whinnies loudly as it flaps its wings, soaring towards the tops of the trees.

You have emoted: As Phoenecia's steed reaches the peak of its climb, she leans over in the saddle and reaches out to yank the ribbon free from the branch with a triumphant smirk, her position allowing her to glimpse just how far behind her Aros is.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a nineteen.

Total: 19.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a six.

Total: 6.

Ranger's trail near a chasm (road) 

A ruby silk hairribbon has been stabbed into the side of the chasm here, acting as a marker.

You see exits leading south and west.

As you grabs the next ribbon, Aros eases a little on a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm, knowing he's running out of steam. The wyrm drops into a glide, just barely catching your tail winds.

You have emoted: Phoenecia's eyes go wide as she sees Aros catching up, grunting and digging her heels into her ina'a's flanks, urging it into a rapid dive towards the road, calling out in Mitrine. She soars down the highway at a breakneck speed, swooping into the chasm as it splits the earth like a dark scar, nearly disappearing into it were it not for the glimmer of her mount's wings. The ribbon is little more than a glint of crimson, and the Yeleni reaches out to snatch it, but it seems stuck fast, causing her to pause in her flight, and giving Aros an opening to catch up. The sound of her cursing can be heard for some distance even as she manages to yank the ribbon free.

A desperate attempt to catch up to you is made by Aros and a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm as they follow you through the chasm. Wings tuck and they dive into the chasm, only to unfurl and twist, doing everything they can to catch up to you. It seems hopeless, however, as you grabs at the ribbon, the lead having been increased further. No sound comes from Aros, but the heaving and flapping of enormous wings cutting through the air comments to the colossal attempt to catch you.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a fourteen.

Total: 14.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a four.

Total: 4.

Bottom of the ascending Ranger's trail (road)   

A pure white hairribbon waves about in the wind, tied off on a low branch.

You see exits leading south and northwest.

You have emoted: The wind whistles through the ina'a's feathers as it glides through the air, its wings propelling it forward in a burst of speed with each flap. Phoenecia's skill as a rider becomes even more evident as she brings the beast in low, hooves nearly touching the ground as she weaves back and forth between the trees. Eventually, she finds her prize, snatching the ivory ribbon from the branch it's tied to without slowing down her speed.

Feathers are left behind in the flurry of flapping wings as a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm and Aros attempt to catch you. "You've not won yet!" his voice calls out, only a little desperate as both strain to catch up.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: a seven.

Total: 7.

You roll a single die and watch it tumble over its twenty faces. The results are: an eighteen.

Total: 18.

On the Esterport Bridge 

An azure hairribbon waves about in the wind, pinned to a shingle at the peak of a nearby rooftop.

You have emoted: Perhaps Phoenecia grows complacent, or perhaps her ina'a tires from the exertion such speed requires. But whatever the reason, her speed slows, and her flight path drifts, offering you a large enough opening to easily pass her.

A fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm gains incredible height as they descend through the highways, and as they reach the bridge to Esterport wings fold once more. Like an arrow tearing through the sky, Aros and the wyrm barrel towards the flapping an azure silk hair ribbon. Wings unfurl yet again as the pair drops into place ahead of you. Fingers outstretch, and with a grunt of effort, Aros manages to catch the ribbon just barely on a claw, tearing it free. "THE LAST LEG IS MINE!" he roars as they race on.

A wide, grassy paddock.

Rain pours down from the sky, the dawn's light filtering dimly through the cloud cover. There are 2 sable warhounds here. Deceptively still, Mortelle, a sable warhound, stands here. A festively-garbed boar sniffs at the ground here. A ghostly white warhound stands here, silently watching. Ser Raynia Vilandra, Shadow Advisor is here. She is riding on a thick-furred albino tiger. Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath is here. She wields a gem-studded shattered heart warhammer in her hands. A cloaked figure is here, hidden. He is riding on a Legionnaire's armoured thick-furred albino tiger.

You see exits leading north and south.

Aros soars in on the back of a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm, a breath ahead of you. Lathered, heaving and feathers askew, the wyrm comes to light on the ground in a flurry of talons and wings. Seeing a cloaked figure and Mjoll present, he laughs loudly and calls, "Here to see my victory!"

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath demands, "WHAT'D YOU WIN?!"

A cloaked figure murmurs to Mjoll, "Not brains."

A cloaked figure waggles his eyebrows comically.

Mjoll snickers but elbows a cloaked figure surreptitiously.

A cloaked figure murmurs to Mjoll, "Desi confirmed he's not a ghost."

A cloaked figure winks knowingly at Mjoll.

Mjoll's breath catches in a gasp of surprise.

You have emoted: Phoenecia quickly falls behind, chasing after Aros through the air, desperately urging her steed to catch up, but despite her efforts, even she can see she's fallen too far behind. She slows her descent, her ina'a landing on the ground at a gallop. Despite her loss, she's all smiles. "Well done, White Rose," she calls out breathlessly, running a hand through her Mount's mane. "A good race. Even if I managed to get three of the ribbons."

A fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm tilts its head back and warbles softly at Phoenecia

Mjoll peers about herself suspiciously.

Aros seems to come to, having fallen into a stupor at the victory he just won. He falls from a fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm and lands heavily on his feet, kicking up a cloud of dust. "Not sure, yet!" he calls to Mjoll before firing back to you good naturedly, "Inch or a mile, three ribbons or two, a win is a win."

A fearsome, feathered and scaled wyrm shakes his great head, ruffling his feathers, and clacks his beak as he looks about.

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath looks confused and says to a cloaked figure, "He don't know what he won."

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath looks confused and says to a cloaked figure, "He don't know what he won."

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath asks you, "Do you know what you lost?"

Raynia peers about herself suspiciously.

Aros combs a scaled hand through his hair, drawing it back over his shoulders. "Satisfaction, that's what I won!" he claims.

Raynia claps her hands together merrily.

A cloaked figure says to Mjoll, "Lets take turns congratulating him with our hammers."

Aros eyes a cloaked figure, giving him the once over.

Aros slowly starts to back away from the conversation, making no sudden movements.

Mjoll ponders a gem-studded shattered heart warhammer's profile, deep in consideration.

Raynia snickers under her breath.

You have emoted: Phoenecia laughs as she slides out of the saddle, combing out her windswept hair. "Well, beyond bragging rights, I... Don't really have a prize to offer aside from conceding that he's the better flier." She pauses, glancing over at Aros and offering a grin. "But. Since you bested me, you can name your prize. Anything within reason."

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose says, "Within reason..."

Aros slowly starts to back away from the conversation, making no sudden movements.

The corners of a cloaked figure's mouth turn up as he grins mischievously.

Raynia peers about herself suspiciously.

Raynia snickers under her breath.

Aros lands in a stance resembling a scorpion and calls a loud, "HIYAH!"

A cloaked figure says, "Would be a shame if my dirk slipped."

A cloaked figure waggles his eyebrows comically.

Raynia leans against Aros, nestling herself close to his side.

Ser Raynia Vilandra, Shadow Advisor laughingly says to a cloaked figure, "He's learning."

Mjoll gives a trillingly melodic laugh.

Commander "Foehammer" Mjoll Vilandra-Seirath says, "I approve."

Mjoll nods her head sagely.

A cloaked figure says to Raynia, "I -was- trying to be nice before I offer him new lung holes."

Aros's wings stretch then settle, one against his back and the other about Raynia's shoulders. "I've not been planning that." he says rather innocently before he smiles at you. "He's just jealous."

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose says to you, "I'll stick with satisfaction. But I think there should be a trophy. Next time."

Musingly, Ser Raynia Vilandra, Shadow Advisor says, "Maybe a shorter race too."

Grinning, you say, "Already planning on a next time, hm? Alright. If you want to challenge me again, feel free to."

Shadow Judge Aros Riahl, the White Rose says to you, "Miss Sinclair."

Aros hefts a moonstone white rose cane, touching the moonstone to his brow in an informal salute.

Aros whispers into your consciousness, "I will most certainly be challenging you again. Nothing beats the proof.