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Before they fell asleep last night, Temujin had asked Aki if she wanted a piece of dragon scale, or all of them, to fashion into armor. Dragon scales were highly prized material because they were impervious to a lot of things, even fire, as their recently concluded battle had just proven. Aki answered in the negative. Ciconi Slayers disliked any form of heavy protection and preferred to rely more on teleportation or speed to evade attacks. “Forgive my ignorance, Lord Temujin,” Mr. Olsson said after a star-struck gasp, “but are these lovely cut glass bowls from the renowned glassmakers of the Vulcanus Clan? They’re curiously shallow but no less expressive than a chawan cup. Dare I say you’re exceedingly generous to even consider offering these beauties as a warming gift to me?” “Forget it,” Temujin harrumphed and put the scales back inside his jacket, away from Mr. Olsson’s reaching fingers. Before the town master could barrage them with more grand oration or another out-of-this-wor
“Blitzlicht,” Aki repeated the word to herself as soon as she heard it from the photographer. She let the foreign word roll on her tongue as though she could taste it, could see its physical equivalent again: Flash Light. “It’s incredibly bright,” Temujin agreed, reading Aki’s thoughts. “It’s from a new solution,” chimed in the photographer, who had brown hair, blue eyes, and very pale skin. The photographer also wore a monocle that barely hid the many layers of bags under his eyes. He looked more at home under the black tent of his creation than in the outside world. In Aki’s rich imagination, he evoked the image of a ki-sucking phantom called kyonshī. His assistant, on the other hand, the one who had held up the frying pan during the photo op, looked like a gravedigger in an ill-fitting suit, like someone assembled from stolen body parts. He contributed very little to the conversation so the impression was enhanced. Earlier, Aki had used sleight-of-hand to spirit away the tintype
Temujin added some new rocks into the pit in the center of the lodge to keep the temperature at a good forty degrees. He himself was sweating like a candle; he could only imagine how Griffin felt with all his down feather. He dipped water from a bucket and poured it into the hot stones, raising puffs of steam. “Have you come to seek counsel?” Temujin was startled. As the steam dissipated, he noticed the shaman, the original fire-tender, sitting cross-legged at the far end of the lodge. He thought everyone else was at the feast. “Forgive me,” Temujin quickly apologized with a bow. “I didn’t realize you were here.” “It matters not,” the shaman answered in Temujin’s western tongue. “I am neither here nor there and I come and go as I please.” Temujin looked at the shaman more carefully. His overall impression of him was “Elephant Man”, because the man was bald and had had his ear lobes stretched with big wooden disk gauges. His whole body was also covered in tattoo, as far as Temuji
Everyone knew the story. The history books of all four clans didn’t differ or sugarcoat when it came to the evil of the Clan of Vulcanus, otherwise known as the Salamanders. The Clan of Salamanders used to have a strong and prosperous khaganate, the mightiest kingdom in all the land. They were the best miners and blacksmiths, and they were the first people to master and command their mother element: fire. They were also the first humans to betray their kind and collaborate with the dragons. Salamander clansmen were considered direct descendants of Homusubi, the fire god. Together with their dragon overlords, they hewed entire mountains and smelted ores to build the stateliest castles and the most impregnable fortresses. They created hand weapons and war machines – repeating crossbows, hand cannons, trebuchets – that extended the power of the nine-headed dragon god, Kuzuryū Daimyōjin, to every corner of Pan-Terra. The exhaust of the Salamanders’ smokestacks choked the sky as far as
It might seem backwards because from the reliable written word, Pan-Terra’s history would move on to the misty realm of folklore and mythology. But relentless chaos swept the lands prior to and during The Age of Darkness (Ankoku Jidai). And the only sources of information thereafter were anecdotal evidence, stories, and alleged sightings. Not much was known about Tamerlane and his group of rōnins past their banishment. Some said they sailed the vast oceans with pirates, which flew no flag but were generally affiliated with the clanless Ming of the Far East, who were obsessed with creating the elixir of immortality. Others said they all went mad trying to navigate Mt. Kurama, the mystical land of the tengu (shapeshifter spirits). What was certain though was that in the time that Tamerlane and his group disappeared, sightings of peculiar, anthropomorphic reptiles began. The Nagas, whose name translated to “snake people”, were a race of monstrified Slayers. They had immense strength, a
Aki and Temujin had decided to leave early the next day. It was disorienting not to have the sun to signal night and day but luckily for them the north was renowned for three things: lamp fuel from whale oil, fresh seafood, and the ever reliable “Angler” pocket watch, which was encased and had a spring-hinged lid that covered its glass crystal face. People sometimes joked that the technology and craft of watchmaking evolved parallel to the northern fishermen’s need to transport their catch at its optimal freshness. The heroes intended to come back as soon as possible, for Griffin and the dragon-scale armor that was still being forged by Pukkitunturi’s finest metal-worker. As promised, the town provided them with their fastest sled team of jolfrs. The same great size of crowd gathered to see them off despite their scheduled return. Mr. Olsson was wearing his most luxuriant and warmest robe yet, and their sled was a covered number that resembled a carriage more than anything and came wi
Aki paused and Temujin let her take her time. “Then my father cast the Shinpu-Ren Majutsu. The Infinite Vortex of the Divine Wind. In theory, the sealing spell summons winds of such godly force that all matter would be sucked in. Nothing and no one could escape. My father labored to trap the monsters, one by one, into the raging vortex. To cast them into the perfect prison: Kage no Tochi, Shadowland. “I glimpsed the gateway to the other world and it was eerily beautiful. Stork mages are acquainted with the many mystical energies of the universe, both dark and divine. But one glance and you’d know the vortex was malevolent. Like a hole that wasn’t meant to be where it was; irreverent like graffiti that a child had drawn on a sacred wall. Its calm belied an insatiable hunger as it sucked in anything and everything that fell within its range: swords, helmets, human bodies. My mother hugged me and I buried my tear-streaked face against her chest. “No one had imagined such a spell was h
When they finally arrived at their torchlit destination, they were surrounded by another crowd, reinforcing Aki’s impression since Pukkitunturi that the Northern Province wasn’t accustomed to receiving that many visitors. Most of the first onlookers were children; something very surprising to Aki, who was used to seeing a lot of senior people around her – teachers, officials, retainers and so on. And it wasn’t just because she grew up isolated as royalty, it was because the Clan of Stork valued wisdom and experience over youth, gradually inducing an aged population. The villagers on this northernmost glacier-covered fell, Blarjokull, wore the same clothing as those in Pukkitunturi. The main difference, it appeared to Aki and Temujin, was the bronze skin and dark mono-lidded eyes of the people here. It turned out that, in the northernmost corner of the world, the people’s hair was dark and straight unlike those of the Pukkitunturians, who were not too different from Aki in appearance.