An Age of Mysterious Memories

Despite them both knowing that I literally mean for them to help me finish up crafting, Prinrin and Pawn stick around anyway. They probably feel that they owe me, since they’ve been distracting me while I was trying to touch base with necessary people at Solace and Verdimenn. Having been working at assuming this form since I arrived on the aerie, the myconid form finally coalesces after a bit of stew dinner via the cauldron, after I cast a full pot of water into it and stir it.

I catch Leezahna spying us curiously when she sees the pleasure that Prinrin and Pawn experience at giving themselves over to the hivemind sporebrain so that we can work efficiently. Her brow is quite furrowed. She’s mildly disturbed, confused, and repulsed. No one’s asking you to participate Leeza. Or even to watch. Still, we need not snark at her. If we are what she chooses to entertain herself observing, then so be it.

Sensing within ourselves, of our three parts, one, a youthful, quick-witted, quick-footed one, is feeling sorry, apologetic. The sorrow is many-fold, sorrow for feeling to appear weak or scared, sorrow for playing off that fear the way they had, sorrow for pretending to string along a portion of our whole, with frequently reversing signals. This part, this Pawn, yields more of ourself, herself, into the hivemind, the sporebrain, to allow us to delve into the emotions, the complexities, the uncertainties, while we work to craft, enchant, create, and theorize.

Another third, the eldest by far, has been mostly silent, and keeping her feelings muted, as she mulls over her grief, seeking small joys to remain distracted. There is some not insignificant joy at being in the presence of the other two thirds, at being connected so closely to beloved individuals, at becoming a single individual. This elder third is conflicted about so many things, and seeks to avoid coming to conclusions, despite her sagacity, clarity of thought, and wisdom in most matters.

Exploring our sorrow, and mixed signals, from our youthful, quick third, we are surprised to find that we, they, did not know, or realize facts about themselves. Facts only mulled over as possibilities ever-so-recently due to witnessing and experiencing conversations since arriving at Mount Verdimenn. We support ourself, this third, proud for them to come to this realization. When we become separate individuals once more, we will show this support. A blur streaks into view, and harrumphs, announcing annoyance at, “not having been invited to the party.”

We of course subsume the Valkyrie into our consciousness. We’ve recreated a spare shop that we shall need to bring into our Backpotter form in the morning, when it has hopefully recovered enough to do so, and we can hopefully grab a load of materials from the most important warrens. Our Pawn-self is worried about engaging in combat again, but rests assured that the Thunderer known as Shiz will be in attendance, acquiescing to defender status. Though chagrined at the results of their distribution of alcohol from today, they now understand what our whole would like to see in terms of distribution. Our Valkyrie is amused when we become aware of what transpired a short while ago.

Further, our Valkyrie shares with ourself some intriguing news. We’re being informed by a glow in our Valkyrie brain that we’re close in terms of dragonforce to expanding the sum of our being. More information includes that the one known as Gilmeshtu is currently suffering a curse from having taken on a magical item similar in appearance to our danger wraps. The wraps are similar only in appearance, and now irremovable, causing intense pain and pulling at flesh or scale if attempts are made to remove them. They provide benefits, but also weaken the user against the undead. Having made a fool of himself, The Gold relinquished responsibility for determining best methods of distributing the spoils of battle to our Valkyrie self.

The Vivant have acquired several items apparently cursed in some manner. This is in part why our The Copper has spoken little. The curse upon her new artifact requires she not speak of it, or most any matter that might reveal the curse, though it has few other downsides. Our The Copper self is mildly chagrined at this fact coming to light however. Our abilities supersede the curse in some ways. Our The Silver and our The Bronze, have a paired artifact, useless when apart, but a fair boon when together.

Our beloved Dormir’s leader is given something more akin to homework than equipment. Enchanted paper that bears the ability to absorb spells in some fashion, and she wracks her mind on how to apply them without requiring our Hero to utilize their very limited magical resources filling them. Our The Blue, and our The Red, now also bear a shared artifact, both of mild power in their own right, some semblance of manipulation of polarity of the equipment born by the artifact. Paired, the results can be explosive. Funnily, one portion aids our The Red in resisting injury from electricity and lightning. Another portion aids our The Blue in resisting injury from fire and explosions. Our Valkyrie portion thought it poetic to distribute thusly, while perhaps playing matchmaker in a fashion.

The Valkyrie portion of ourself has bound to an ushanka, a wintery hat, and due to this, can now manifest a brilliant spectral winter wolf the size of a grand steed that remains her faithful companion until it perishes or is unsummoned. The wolven steed and the hat remain bound to our Valkyrie self, allowing this portion of our self to treat this wolf, this steed as an extension of their will. We suggest empowering this spirit wolf, this steed with a storming crown that our Valkyrie has found, in order to keep it safe from the storms, the lightning our Valkyrie self is coming to wield more and more. The ability for the bearer of the crown to briefly act as an avatar of storms once per day for the wolf will also aid our Valkyrie self in more ways than one.

We are coming undone, before we finish assessing new information flowing in from our various parts, our selves. Soon each of us leaves, one by one, until we are solo once more, and then we are no longer a myconid. Rattling my skull, I blink rapidly for a bit, trying to clear the mind-altering effects from my brain. The myconid form is powerful, but it’s a hell of a trip having the very way I perceive and think and react be altered so strongly.

Finally myself, I smile as Teuila leaps at me to hug me close before she rambles, “So, like, I dunno how much you saw, but things went so good, and so smooth today, except for like, the siege, ugh, I felt so bad when I saw the message. I wanted to rush home. I knew it wouldn’t make a difference though, because of the time it took to get back. Anyway, like, so now I have kind of a pet wolf girl spirit thingy. I call her Selene Frostflash. She’s my SFF, hehehe. Seriously, she’s super cool, which, I guess you already sort of know about from the mushroom brain, but look. Pchew!”

Snapping her fingers, Teuila manifests a frosty, furry, semi-translucent wolf, the size of a Clydesdale or possibly even larger. Te leaps onto the back of her pet and slash or mount, and she fishes out a crown that looks to be made of arcing lightning, in order to gift it to Selene. Selene seems to appear to simply be a mana construct, a manifestation and extension of Teuila’s will, virtually no autonomy, except to whatever subprocess or simple instructions Teuila can give her. But appearances can be deceiving, and still, she’s an impressive creation of magic to be sure either way. It’s kind of cute seeing Te loving up on her new friend, beaming with pride.

Dismounting Selene, Te nearly tackles me to return to excitedly rambling, “So, I gave Aunty ‘Zool like, a bracelet thingy, that I hope keeps her safe. It’s some kind of defensive thing, with sharp magic. Like, when I punched the guy who had it, I had to break through a like, almost invisible shield, and the friggin’ shards zoomed at me and hurt like heck. Anyway, he went down in one, natch. Let’s see, what else, oh, I got you these two things, ‘cause I wanted to see how you react.”

When Teuila scampers away to find her pouch at Selene’s side, I’m not exactly caught off guard as she throws things at me. What does catch me off guard is the fact that what she appears to throw at me, is, well, a bladeless hilt. It honestly looks like the sort of thing a plasma-saber would jump out of at the press of a button. Just in case it can do exactly that, I catch it in my telekinetic grip so that I don’t hurt myself.

I barely notice the other small object traveling my way. It looks like some sort of char-iron icon. Like something you’d put on the end of a branding iron to, well, brand things. It has definitely seen its fair share of fires. The icon, a stamp I guess, seems to resemble a fox. Wait, foxfire stamp? F—. I sigh and roll my eyes, glancing around suspiciously for several moments. For Fox’ Sakes. Heh.

Chuckling while shaking my head I roll my eyes while grinning like an idiot. Still, the hilt is interesting. I carefully float it to my hand, and focus on activating it. I suddenly hear a, “Hey, what the?” from a nearby Draconiac who’d been drinking from a barrel of water that they’d rolled up to the cauldron. Looking that way, I have to laugh as a whip of water travels through the air towards the hilt. When it’s done floating towards me, the water forms a fifteen foot long katana blade, completely, utterly, ridiculously impractical, if it weren’t weightless.

Still, if it’s weightless, will it apply any force? I suppose the telekinetic force that holds the water in place and shapes it will be exerting pressure without necessarily any leverage points. It opens up a fighting style that could surprise even trained fighters, by not needing to meet parries with appropriate leverage. I’d still benefit from formal training though. Raising an eye towards Teuila, she nods along her psychic wavelength that she wants me to have it.

It looks like I’m going to need to carry around a water skin, or actually keep out that weird sandstorm cloak, to cast a bunch of water once in a while. I suppose I’m one of few people who could make use of it, at any time, due to my various elemental spells, and other equipment. Actually, I might get it to be able to generate water on its own, since I have other equipment that can do so, if I tinker with its enchantment. Or, get it to be able to control water in a large area, since I have a spell that specifically does that. Intriguing ideas for a later date.

Still, this foxfire stamp, this other FFS, one of many in my life, I guess I can toss it into the fire beneath the cauldron to see what happens. I do take a moment to roll my eyes and chuckle at the fact that Teuila named her wolf SFF, almost assuredly poking fun at me. Hm, the foxfire thing seems to be taking a while to activate, but I can sense mana traveling to it. I guess I’ll leave it there for a bit.

Poking and prodding me, Te orders, “Put on your thingy, the one with the birds and feathers and stuff, that sexy coat. Quick.”

Fighting my grin to pretend to grump at being bossed around, I can’t even make a dejected pose with how giddy Teuila is. Switching into my raven feather coat, Teuila fishes out what looks like a rough. That is, like the rough of a coat, or a bird’s rough. She laces it along the one that already exists on my coat, and suddenly I sprout wings. Sort of. They just kind of pop up when the magic in the rough intertwines with the magic in the coat.

Giggling like a madbeast, Teuila snorts while commenting, “Didn’t think I got you that excited, but then I forgot that dressing turns you on more than undressing.”

Snorting and rolling my eyes, I shake my head at Te. Suddenly though, I feel an odd sense of sickness, an emptiness. I feel lightheaded and dizzy. It feels beneficial though. Something is happening. Let’s see, a benefit where I suddenly feel like I’m less healthy, or have less hitpoints. It increased my maximum health? That’s so weird and esoteric for Rayileklia. After a minute, the wings disappear. Hm, I don’t seem to be able to get them to come back out. I guess in an emergency, I could get a minute of flight once during a day. There’s also some weird interplay with poison and disease that I can’t quite parse from the runework.

Teuila drops a tombstone out of a multi-dimensional bag. Or what looks like one anyway. A bit surprisingly, when she stands on it, she begins zooming around as if she were surfing the stone surface of the floor. Teuila’s now doing a kick flip, and tossing it up into her hands. She’s probably the only person that could do that, because it looks like it weighs hundreds of pounds. She shrugs, and tosses it to one side which leaves me grimacing, bracing for impact, but apparently she’d reduced its gravity enough that it lands with a soft thud. Teuila then shoves a pair of knitting needles in my pocket, which causes my face to contort as my brow raises. She shrugs again while smiling like a loon.

Suddenly Te exclaims, “The feathery thing, the rough stuff, was on a cloak, but the cloak was cursed, so I cut it off. I figured it’d go on your coat just fine. Oh, right, this thingy! Where’s Lucky? Gah I gotta put these frosty guards on his gauntlet thingies on his armor, and ink him up with this tatt. Ah I gotta go put this in the visor on the big lug’s helm too! This falcony birdy visor attachment mask thingy. Pup’s gonna love it. I think he’s the last one of us that can’t fly. But not anymore!”

Before I can thank her, or parse what she said, or respond, Teuila zooms off in search of Lucky. Selene stands stoically, nearly completely still, but does appear to at least glance around, observing her surroundings. Since Te didn’t give her any orders, I guess that’s just her existence as a mana construct. When Selene begins wandering and sniffing things, my brain breaks a little bit. I guess she’s autonomous after all? Actually, can I sense anything about her? Hm, I’m not sure. I’d almost think she were somewhat like Tinpu of the Mambo tribe of celestial meerkats.

It sounds like Teuila faced forces with at least as much magical equipment as the ones we’d faced at Vorzog’s Keep. I wonder if she faced all of these items in battle, or if some of them were in vaults or storages. Wait. She’s giving Lucky a tattoo? Hopefully it’s one of those magically applying ones. I don’t want to imagine her sitting around trying to chisel a tattoo into my son’s stony, scaly flesh. The idea makes me laugh a little bit, but also sets me to frowning, imagining that it might hurt him.

Wait. Wait wait wait. Milbert. I’d been curious how he could have just been coming into possession of so many magical items, when no one else really seemed to have any. Terrorzin locked down mages and archmages, and confiscated eggs and magic items. The more of his forces we face, the more magical equipment, enchanted gear, and artifacts we encounter deeper within his domains, or upon his more trusted subordinates.

Terrorzin has had human-form dragons, or Draconiacs with illusion magic or illusionary magic items, planted in human cities for decades, maybe centuries. Milbert had likely stolen the souls, and magical treasure troves, of dragons that were in, around, and passed near both Navica, and Victo. I almost want to laugh at the near-karma of it all.

Hm, anyway, I think we should donate that weird tombstone surfboard to either the Draconiac volunteers here, or to the strategists-eight. As I’m pondering who specifically to gift it to, suddenly, the strangest tiny yipping meets my ears, but doesn’t travel as a soundwave. It’s almost telepathic. At the same time, a tiny figure leaps out of the fire beneath the cauldron and dashes at me. Oh my heavens. This little sweetie is so precious, and adorable. A little fennec fox of fire. Hah, I get a tiny fiery fox, Te gets a ginormous frosty wolf. Sounds about right.

Te’s elemental canid might be autonomous, mine though, seems to definitely be autonomous, like an actually bound elemental spirit. Checking its aura, I do believe it is indeed a living creature, in a sense. It’s also almost entirely intangible, since it’s literally made of fire. I have no idea if there’s a way to leverage being bound to such an adorable little creature, and I’m not even sure I could bring myself to put it in harm’s way.

The fox scrabbles up me, and tugs at a leather cord about my neck, the one attached to the enhanced-durability-enchanted leather pouch that contains the dracorocnix egg. When it has access to the barest fraction of an opening towards the pouch, the fox shrinks down to a tiny mote of flame, and floats inside the pouch, nestling up against the egg. Huh.

From the cauldron’s cooking fire, I fish out the stamp, or charm, that created the little elemental, and check to make sure the mote of flame is okay after removing it. Thankfully it seems fine, so I pocket the hunk of iron into an interdimensional space. I can sense Prinrin smiling at my coming into possession of the adorable little lifeform.

For seemingly quite possibly the first time today, Prinrin addresses me telepathically, “Oh Schism my sweet. Dearie me, hearing that you died again, it was just awful my dear. Now here you are, banged up, bruised up, and all blue in the face.”

Before I can so much as think about snickering, Prinrin quips, “Oh hush now Schism dear. You know what I meant.” She then continues, “I’ve been struggling all night to find a time and way to tell you how upset I am with you, and realizing how hypocritical it makes me. I know, I know dearie. I’m rather roughed up myself, and as always, I’ve taken a few for the team today. Though of course our sweet Tenith went above and beyond to keep us all safe. Ferocious as anything she is. Quite the sight to behold in battle, and such a sweet dear too. She’s every bit as impressive as your mind makes her out to be, the utter dear, the impressive ally, the conquering confidante.”

Smiling, despite knowing that Prinrin suffered worry for me, I nuzzle the top of her head. Miraina sits nearby, contemplating the discovery she’d made about herself while we were a myconid. I can see Miraina’s gaze continue to wander towards Leeza’s room, and she frowns each time it does. After a while, she rattles her head, trying to get a grip on her thoughts. The poor dear.

Here’s hoping she finds someone wonderful. Miraina turns her gaze towards me, and eyes me up and down, torn, because technically, I don’t qualify, but I also don’t present the disqualifications. She frowns, pouts, and drops her chin into her palms to sit frumpily, grousing about her revelation. I almost wonder if I should tell her to try to ask Leeza anyway, despite Leezahna’s earlier denial. I guess she’ll have to find her own way through the emotional minefield of romance though.

Telepathically whispering what little support I can offer up, I mutter, “I’m here for you Pawn, if you ever want to talk about it. I’m fairly positive you’re not alone in your preferences at Solace, but I don’t know if you want or need to hear that right now. Whatever you need though, just let me know.”

Miraina nods gratefully my way for a moment, before returning to her frumpy, grousing, hunched seated position. Turning towards Prinrin, I respond, “Te is. She really, really is. I’m sorry I made you worry. I mean, trust me, dying wasn’t something I wanted to do. I don’t know how many times I’ll luck out, but that feels dangerously close to a last ditch final lucky break. My first time using chaos magic, happening to hit that particular benefit, and happening to die within that timeframe? It’s a one in a million fluke. I—.”

While Prinny looks torn between slapping me and laughing, I realize how bad what I just said sounded, so I continue, “Sorry, that’s not reassuring. I didn’t mean to die. It sucked. The Damnations are starting to falter though at least. I nearly ruined some magical equipment almost taking this one down today, but, huff, I didn’t finish it off, yet again. Oh holy crap, where the hell did I leave the Callipygian?”

Checking my phone, I let them out of my inventory at the same time as the others, so I let them out in the ‘Twixt. I know they surrendered, and wanted to return with us. Did I just accidentally abandon them in the ‘Twixt? Or did I leave them in Jeegoobotstan? Or were they just mixed in with the Draconiacs, trying to lay low when they got to Solace? If the latter, do I need to hunt them down and lock them up for everyone else’s safety, to keep them from infiltrating Solace? I know they didn’t join the flight home, though I suppose their dragon form was pretty wrecked by Lucky. Maybe I’m overreacting, and they were just one of the humanoid ones that rode with one of the consorts.

Interjecting into my now paranoid train of thoughts, Prinrin offers up, “You weren’t kidding about so many irons in so many fires Schism dearie. I dare say you’re about as scattered as you’ve ever been. I hope it’s not because of the reincarnation Schism my sweet. Still, as much as she was teasing, my dear sweet Pawn was right, on you, this blue, tail, and these horns—, you deviant little tease.”

Facepalming, I know, and knew, that Prinrin, like Farzhis was grieving the death of our previous The Blue. I did not even think about the fact that the chaos magic pigmentation was blue. Ugh, I feel like a complete jackass walking around, pigmented like this, looking a bit like a Draconiac version of our previous The Blue. Huh—. Could his death have influenced chaos—? Nah. No way. Right?

Regardless, I apologize, “I’m so sorry my dear sweet Prinny, my deviant little old lady. I didn’t even realize the pigmentation would be reminiscent—. I mean, hell, I thought I shapechanged it away, but apparently the chaos magic won’t let me do that, and keeps returning it to blue. As far as I’m aware, minor effects like this tend to only last a day to a month, usually twenty-four hours. If you want, I could cove—“

Biting me suddenly in the shoulder, Prinrin telepathically communicates, “Don’t you dare go hiding your beautiful self from me Schism dearie. Your offer is as sweet as you dear, but I don’t need you pulling away dearie. I—.”

Prinrin runs through a whirlwind of emotions as she parses her own feelings and needs. I’m honored to be a part of those considerations, but I mostly want her to heal, to feel loved. Her teeth in my shoulder loosen their grip and she lays her face along my neck, loosing several tears.

Finally addressing it, Prinny somberly starts, “I’d been prepared, we’d both been prepared, for so long now, for my sweet lad’s passing. It felt like I’d already grieved his loss. Is it heartless that I want to move on, after so long missing him already deary? I know the answers, of course. You don’t get to be as old as I am, observing so many emotions of so many wonderful people, without learning a thing or two about feelings. Yet it both seems so fresh, and so long ago, far away Schism deary. I’d admitted my heart had found a place for you, my sweet Schism, before his passing. You know this. I know you wouldn’t think less of me, or that I’m using you, but I just want your closeness Schism my sweet." She then much more suggestively adds, “As close as I can get.”

My emotions catch in my throat for a while, right up until those last six words, when Prinrin’s telepathic voice changes from a mournful sadness, into a salacious subtext. Though I wear incredulity on my face, my heart still feels warmed by her. Nothing keeps this little old lady from being her deviant self. Heck, I don’t think I’d have it any other way anyway.